Reckoning
by jaibhagwan
Summary: A slow burn Caryl fic. The story of their friendship. Daryl and Carol discover themselves through relating to each other in a post-apocalyptic world.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of the characters. I'm also not a professional writer. Your feedback is my only payment.

CHAPTER 1

They knew what was happening, but they never spoke about it. Lingering a few minutes here, stealing furtive glances there; neither of them had any desire to move quickly by making overt gestures. Over time, Daryl and Carol realized that they simply preferred each other's quiet company. It was easy. It worked for them. They just fell into the rhythm of routine, even while their lives were in chaos. Daily demands on their time kept them busy which was good as too much idle time allowed one to think too much. Too much thinking meant too much worrying. And with the crowding patterns of the walkers becoming more concentrated and supplies becoming more scarce, no one could afford to worry. It was do or die.

With each other, Daryl and Carol both felt accepted and appreciated for who they were without pretense or demands that they be otherwise. They often sought each other out at the end of the day just to check in with each other to see how the other was doing. It was a simple thing really, but neither of them took it for granted. They both took pleasure in being cared for by the other because neither of them had ever had much experience with it. It was strange and disconcerting at first, but the fidelity of their friendship soon became a gentle, reassurance. Their regular check-ins were comfortable, even predictable. It felt like a safe haven amid the chaos. Even though the world had gone to shit, people still mattered. They both cared about each other.

Daryl had come to admire Carol's emotional strength. When he first met her at the camp at the quarry, he thought she was too fragile for this world. She had an asshole for a husband and she seemed afraid much of the time, always hovering around her daughter, Sophia. When the son of a bitch got bit and died, Daryl had thought it was poetic justice. He had watched closely as Carol took the pickaxe to Ed's skull again and again and again, giving his lifeless body some payback for the years she likely suffered at his hand. He had seen the bruises, he wasn't blind. Daryl had felt guilty because he never did anything about it, but Merle had warned him not to get involved. It was none of his business. But he was concerned nonetheless, and watched her like a hawk as she flitted through camp doting on her daughter. He was wary of this woman who seemed to put everyone before herself as she tended to their needs. He'd never seen anything like it, her selflessness. She intrigued him. After Sophia went missing, he tried to redeem himself by searching for her. But he had failed. It nearly destroyed Carol when they found out Sophia had turned. For a long time, Daryl felt like he failed her.

Before the dead started walking, Daryl hadn't made much of his life. He had a hard time keeping a job because he had trouble controlling his temper and got into a lot of fights. Someone was always running their mouth about some shit they didn't know shit about and it pissed Daryl off. He drank a lot. Not the way his Daddy had, but enough to forget himself. Enough to forget how scared and lonely he felt most of the time whenever he was around other people. The only time he ever felt true peace was when he was alone in the woods. It was the only place he felt connected to everything. It was the only place he felt he belonged. When he was in the woods, he felt sure of himself. He knew his role in nature. He knew who he was. He had come to prefer the solitude the woods offered and learned to provide for himself.

Sometimes, he got sucked into one of Merle's schemes when he'd blow back into town, high as a kite, with his grandiose plans and manic energy. He never really liked taking advantage of other people the way his brother did. It never settled right in his stomach and left him feeling uneasy. Yet, he had a hard time saying no to Merle. He was family after all. Even if he was an asshole most of the time, he was all Daryl had. So he just pushed his feelings down to the place where he buried all his other feelings he didn't think about and just went along with it. Merle ended up going to prison once after one of his scams went south, but he had kept Daryl out of it.

"You're too sweet for the big house, little brother," Merle had told him dismissively. "That place'll eat you alive."

He felt guilty about letting Merle down. He felt that he had failed him somehow. All his life Daryl had felt like the failure his Daddy had always told him he was.

But then a strange thing happened. Carol had sought him out, fearlessly, as he recalled. She stood her ground as he tried, unsuccessfully, to push her out of his mind. He tried to stop caring because the pain of it seemed so unbearable and tore at him from the inside. _Who did she think she was?_ He was nothing to her. He had failed her in every way. Yet, she never saw him in this way that he saw himself. She kept reaching out to him, and refused, quite stubbornly as he saw it, to give up. She had believed in him. She had seen beyond the pretense of his defensive anger to how much he really cared, and called him on his own bullshit. And so Daryl started believing in himself. He started to understand that he had something to offer others. He started to take pride in himself for his ability to hunt and provide for these people he had come to see as a sort of family. A family he never really had. Carol had taught him that the only real failure was running away and not trying. He learned that caring for others had helped to lessen the pain. People came to respect him because of the effort he made. It took the end of the world for Daryl to find true meaning and purpose to his life.

After they fled the farm, Daryl started teaching Carol how to defend herself. She was an eager student and always listened intently when he instructed her on the proper way to wield a knife. Once he even wrapped himself in pillows and taught her some basic combat moves and how to evade an attacker. He wanted her to be safe. He knew that the walkers weren't the only threat out there. It was anarchy. And as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't always be there to protect her.

She had smiled when she saw him, her eyes sparkled mischievously. "You look like the Michelin Man," she teased.

"Stop," he declared, embarrassed. His cheeks grew warm. "Defendin' yourself is serious business, lady. You can't be worryin' yourself about the other guy's feelin's. You think he's gonna give a shit about yours?" he challenged her.

Carol dropped her smile and bit her lip, stifling the chuckle that threatened to escape. "Yes, sir," she saluted him. "Let's get down to business."

Carol relished her lessons with Daryl. He taught her how to be strong. She learned how to fight back so she wouldn't be a victim anymore. There was no need to let her fear stop her when she could do something. Ed had always made her feel like nothing. As if she were incapable of doing anything. But Ed was dead. She was no longer oppressed. There was no one setting her limits now. Being powerless and afraid had cost her Sophia. It was a painful lesson she would never forget.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

In those first few days on the road after the farm, Carol rode with Daryl on the Triumph as they scavenged the Georgia countryside for supplies and shelter. Daryl was surprised at how quickly he adapted to her body behind him on the bike. It was as if she belonged there. The feel of her warm arms around him was comforting. He liked her confident silence. It settled him.

Carol's presence reminded him that he wasn't a complete failure. He was capable of some good. He had heard her screams the night the farm was overrun by a herd of walkers and had sprung into action immediately to rescue her from certain death. He had been there and it made a difference. On more than a few occasions he had come close to leaving the group because he had thought he was better on his own.

Daryl didn't understand people. He didn't understand why they acted the way they did. He always felt that he was missing something. He had been abandoned and hurt by people he cared about. It never made any sense and he had given up trying to understand it all years ago. No one had ever cared enough about him to notice. As a boy, he had gotten lost in the woods, and no one bothered to look for him. For nine days, he was alone, hungry and afraid, and he realized that no one cared enough to find him. If he wanted to survive, he would to have to learn to do it on his own. So, he ate berries and made his own way back.

When the farm fell, he knew he would have little chance to make it on his own. The walkers were starting to cluster together. Even though he had good instincts, he could easily get out numbered. He was glad he stayed with the others. There was really no place to go anyways.

He felt like he developed an understanding with Carol. They were similar in a lot of ways so it was easy to be around her. He was still unsure about the rest of the group, but he knew there was safety in numbers. Rick was growing on him. He seemed fair and valued Daryl's opinion and experience. He entrusted him to provide the group with food and protection. Daryl was beginning to feel respected and useful. And though it wasn't easy, he was trying to get along with everyone.

"We need you," Rick told him that second morning after they fled. He wanted to keep the group intact, but they were almost out of gas. He sent Daryl with Glenn and Maggie to scout for and siphon gas. "Stay safe," he told them as they drove off.

Daryl intended to do just that. People were depending on him now. It was a strange feeling. They drove about seven miles before they came upon a lonely, unlit stoplight. It was swaying in the gentle breeze. There was a garage on one side of the road and a diner on the other. They pulled up alongside the garage. There were a few cars parked outside with five walkers milling about them. Daryl had taken two of them out with his crossbow before Maggie and Glenn joined him. They each took out one of the remaining three.

"Nice," Glenn said with a smile afterwards at the ease of it.

Daryl walked up to the garage and peered through the window. "There's a couple o' gas cans in there. Maybe some other stuff. It's empty."

"There might be some food and water in the diner," Maggie suggested. "Me an' Glenn can go check it out. Clear it if need be."

Daryl nodded his head in assent. "I'll get the cans an' start fillin' 'em."

Maggie and Glenn grabbed their gear from the car and then took off across the street. Daryl went back to his bike and pulled out the siphon hose he kept in one of the saddle bags. He looked over at the diner and watched them peering in the glass door before opening it. They signaled him they were going inside and then disappeared.

Half an hour later, Daryl was just filling the second can with gas when he saw Maggie and Glenn emerge from the diner. They were both covered in walker guts and sporting large smiles. The bag Glenn was carrying appeared full. Maggie was holding a large tin can in each arm and a can opener in her left hand. She pushed at Glenn playfully with her hip and giggled. They seemed to be sharing a private joke as they walked back to the car.

"Good score," Glenn called out elatedly as they loaded their plunder into the back of the car.

Daryl grunted his response. He was eager to get rid of the taste of gasoline from his mouth. He finished filling the can and screwed the lid on tightly. He walked the cans over to the car and handed them to Maggie who put them in the trunk. "There's a vendin' machine in the garage," he said to Glenn. "Wanna help me bust it open an' liberate some Gatorade?"

"Uh, yeah. Sounds like fun," Glenn said with a smirk.

Daryl found a tire iron and pried the machine open. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and opened it. He took a sip and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it out. He did that a few times, but the taste of gasoline remained.

"Don't suppose you found any liquor in there?" he inquired hopefully.

"No, sorry," Glenn said apologetically as he emptied the vending machine.

Daryl grunted and helped Glenn remove the drinks and load them up into the car. He took one bottle for himself and put it in the bag on his bike along with the hose. He took one last glance at the garage. Curiously, he went back inside and searched in the back office. He found a full pint of whiskey in the desk drawer and smiled to himself. "That'll do," he said to himself as he placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Carol was nervous as she watched Daryl ride off that morning with Glenn and Maggie. It had been a rough few days. They had spent the night on the cold ground and her body was aching. She had barely escaped the farm with her life. Daryl had heard her terrified shrieks as she ran from the walker herd and had ridden his motorcycle up to rescue her like some type of redneck Western hero. She felt completely useless. She had no idea how to defend herself.

She was mad at Rick for keeping secrets. He had revealed that Dr. Jenner had told him that they had all been infected by some virus. When they died, they would all come back as one of those flesh eating things they referred to as walkers. Sooner or later, they would all become the walking dead. Carol shivered at the thought. Her daughter had become one because Rick failed to protect her. She didn't trust him. To make things worse, in a fit of rage at the group's frantic discord, he had told them that he had killed his best friend, Shane, to protect them. _Who could feel safe?_

After they discovered Sophia's walking corpse, Carol had been so distraught and angry with God that she didn't even attend Sophia's funeral. Daryl had gotten so angry with her that he started to withdraw from the whole group. He wouldn't speak to her for a few days. He wouldn't even accept the food she cooked. He made his own meals at the camp he set up away from the others. _What kind of mother doesn't attend her only child's funeral?_ No one said anything to her, but she felt their judgment all the same. Truth be known, she felt too ashamed to see Sophia laid to rest. She wanted to blame Rick, but it was really her own fault. Carol had tried to shield Sophia from the monster she had married, but in the end she realized that all she had taught her was how to cower and flee. She was weak and couldn't protect her. And the monsters had gotten her Sophia anyways.

Carol worried about Daryl. His attachment to the group was tenuous. She was afraid he would run and didn't like to think about him out there alone. At the farm, she had sought him out and pushed at him until he exploded all his rage onto her. She felt like she deserved it. He had almost hit her that night. A part of her wished he had. She felt like she needed to be punished for losing Sophia. It was her fault for leaving Sophia defenseless. But he was no Ed. Daryl was made of better stuff. He had a strong moral character and wouldn't dishonor himself. He wasn't cruel. He had seen through her and forced her to see the ugly truth about herself. _I only know how to be a victim._ She had sought Daryl out to make a martyr of herself. But he wouldn't let her. _I'm pathetic_, she thought, disgusted at herself, as he had stormed off to get away from her.

The next morning she had awakened early from a nightmare. It was still dark out when she climbed out of her tent into the cool night air and started a fire. She was full of self-loathing. T-Dogg was on watch on top of the RV and called down to her quietly. "Everything okay?"

"Can't sleep," she explained. "Can I make you some coffee?"

"I wouldn't refuse a warm cup if you're making some for yourself," he said lightheartedly rubbing his hands together and blowing onto his fingers trying to warm them up.

She finished stoking the small fire she built and set about the task of heating the water. It gave her a sense of purpose. She liked feeling useful. She stared into the fire while she waited on the water. She focused on the dancing flames and tried to let go of all the nagging thoughts. It was calming. She felt her body relax a little as the heat from the fire warmed her up. _It's not going to do you any good to feel sorry for yourself._

By the time the water finally boiled, the sun was coming up. She poured the water into a mug and stirred in the instant coffee. She climbed up the ladder of the RV and handed it to T-Dogg who bent down to take it from her. "Here you go. We're out of sugar and creamer," she apologized.

"It was only a matter of time," he chuckled warming his fingers on the mug. "Thanks anyway."

As she was climbing down the ladder, she saw Daryl approaching the camp with two dead rabbits in his hand. He saw her and nodded a greeting. She nodded back cautiously. She wasn't expecting to see him so soon after his rant the night before.

"Thought you could cook these for breakfast," he said avoiding her eyes. He held up the fresh kills in his hand.

"Yes, I think I can manage to do something with them. Thank you," her voice quivered as she spoke. "The water's just boiled. Can I get you some coffee? We're out of sugar and creamer right now."

He nodded in acceptance. "'S'okay. I like it black." He stood there awkwardly shifting the weight in his legs.

Carol quickly made the coffee. She was nervous. She was remorseful as she thought about the night before. She wanted to make it right.

"Daryl," she started as she handed him the mug.

He looked up towards her at the sound of his name. He reached out to accept the mug. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to upset you," she finished. She hoped it would do.

He looked at her incredulously. "You got nothin' to apologize for," he said sharply. Then, more softly, "I'm the one who acted like an ass. I'm sorry 'bout what I said. It wasn't called for." He shifted his weight and bowed his head.

"You said the truth. You were just being honest." She looked down twisting at her fingers.

He slowly took a step closer to her. "Nah," he shook his head dismissing her recollection, "that's not the half of it. You were a good ma. I saw you dote on the girl. You were attentive. She was lucky to have you."

Carol looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He let the rabbits fall from his hand. Then, he reached out tentatively and touched her arm. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said sincerely holding her gaze. His eyes held the pain of regret.

She nodded at him and smiled her acceptance of his apology. They stood there, unwavering, bound by the tenderness of the moment. Finally, he broke away, reaching down to pick up the rabbits. "I'll clean these for you an' bring 'em back," he promised. He turned and walked away a few paces before he stopped and glanced back at her. "Thanks for the coffee." He lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip before turning back around and heading off in the direction of his tent.

Unexpectedly, Lori roused Carol from her thoughts. "I really did it this time," she said dejectedly. She sat down next to Carol against the stone wall.

"What now?" Carol inquired, mustering concern. She had no idea what this woman had to complain about. She had a loving husband and a son who was still alive.

"Rick's mad at me," she said sorrowfully.

"Lori, Rick's mad at all of us," she offered.

"But I'm his wife. I'm the one person he needed on his side and I basically shoved him under the bus. I rejected him for killing Shane. For getting Carl involved." Lori explained.

"Ouch."

"Yeah," Lori sighed casting her eyes downward. "I don't think he will forgive me this time."

"You can't know that, Lori," Carol tried to be encouraging. "He's under a lot of stress. We all are. Give him some time. He loves you. He'll come around." She put her hand on her shoulder as a gesture of support.

"Maybe," Lori replied uncertainly.

"Try not to dwell on it. You still have Carl to focus on. He needs his mother," Carol stressed. She felt the loss of Sophia and it pained her that she no longer felt needed.

"I'm not sure about that. He doesn't even listen to me," Lori doubted.

Carol was getting irritated. _She can't even be grateful for what she has_, she thought. It must have shown on her face because suddenly Lori was apologizing to her.

"Carol, I'm such an idiot. I didn't mean to be insensitive."

Carol felt guilty that she wasn't doing a very good job at being supportive. She had to try harder. She needed to do something. She felt helpless just sitting around waiting. "Well, we can sit around here feeling sorry for ourselves, or we can go gather more fire wood. If we're going to have a pity party, we can at least be warm." She pasted on a smile.

Lori acquiesced, "You're right. This isn't helping."

They had just finished gathering the wood when Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn returned from their run. Spirits were lifted as they emerged with their bounty. Daryl felt a sense of pride when he handed Rick the cans of gas. Rick slapped him on the back in gratitude. Daryl stiffened at the touch, but then relaxed.

"Thanks, for gettin' the job done," Rick told him. "I appreciate it."

"S'gotta be done, right?" Daryl shrugged. He wasn't used to being thanked. It was uncomfortable. "I'm gonna go see if I can't hunt up somethin' for breakfast."

Rick nodded his consent. "We'll come up with a plan after you get back."

Daryl saw Carol making a fire with Lori. He walked by them on his way into the woods. The success of the run had put him in a good mood. "Better get that fire blazin', ladies," he called to them boldly. "I'll be back with breakfast."

"You taking requests?" Lori joked.

Daryl shrugged but didn't slow his momentum. He was almost strutting.

"I'll take an Egg McMuffin with cheese!" Lori shouted after him.

Carol laughed and added, "And don't forget the hash browns!"

He waved them off shaking his head. "Don't hold your breath!" he hollered back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The mid-afternoon sun was burning hot as it sank into the horizon on the day that their convoy pulled into the storage unit parking lot. There were only a few cement buildings nestled into a dense patch of trees just uphill from a creek. Still, there was the promise of shelter and clean clothes, and if they were lucky, fresh game that Daryl could hunt or trap.

The group had been constantly on the move in the two weeks since they lost the farm. They had stayed in truck stops, homesteads, motels, wherever they could find a few moments of peace. But it was always short lived. They eventually left out of danger or necessity. Luckily, they had managed to obtain a few necessary supplies.

Nomadic life was hardest on Lori. She was always uncomfortable or hungry as her body changed to accommodate the new life growing within. Carol felt sorry for her. Rick had been distant since he took control of the group that first cold night on the road. The stress between her soured marriage and life on the run didn't help settle Lori's stomach.

Carol sometimes rode with the Grimes' just to help lighten the tension between the couple. Lori had been in a somber mood all morning and Carol had exhausted herself trying to comfort her and be supportive. She wished she had ridden with Daryl. She silently muttered a prayer of thanks when they pulled up and parked next to the small office building with a sign that read, "Bob's StorAll." The truck had barely stopped before Carol had opened her door and jumped out, desperate for fresh air and sunshine.

She noticed that Daryl had already parked his bike, readied his crossbow, and was peering through the lone office window. She walked a few paces from the truck and started stretching her legs and arms trying to release the tension that had formed during the long ride. "God, it feels so good to move," she stated raising her arms overhead, fingers clasped, and leaning over to her side.

He turned his head towards her and squinted. "Woulda been worse if you'd been on the bike," he offered.

"You didn't have to ride with Lori," she grimaced as she rolled her eyes.

He snorted in response, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. "Touché."

The rest of the group started gathering in the empty space between the vehicles. Rick called out to Daryl, "Is it empty?"

"Could be. Looks like there's another room in the back. I'm thinkin' maybe a bathroom. There's some locks an' bungee cords that might come in handy. I'll clear it," Daryl stated and set to work picking the lock.

Rick nodded his assent and turned towards T-Dog. "T, why don't you get those bolt cutters and see if we can't clear out a few of these units. Location's good. We should stay the night. May be a few days before the herd comes through here." He sounded hopeful.

"Sounds good to me," T-Dog called as he searched the back of the truck.

Soon the group was rifling through the storage units looking for useful items while clearing out the less practical to make room for the survivors to sleep. They managed to clear out three units. Hershel, Beth, Maggie, and Glenn took the largest unit. Rick, Lori and Carl shared the smaller unit next door. T-Dog, Carol, and Daryl were given the unit on the end.

Carol worried about Daryl when she saw where they were expected to sleep. She knew Rick wouldn't allow Daryl to sleep outside in the open air by himself. But she also knew Daryl didn't like being confined in a small space, especially with others. It made him tense and prickly with everyone. She was aware that it had something to do with his past, but she never asked him about it. She respected his privacy. The world was full enough of monsters now without digging up past demons.

While digging through a storage unit, Carol found a futon mattress and some old hand-made quilts and quickly set to nesting. She gave the futon to Lori. "Looks like you could use some comfort," she said, extending her offering. She hoped a good night's sleep would fix her gloomy mood.

"It's not the Ritz, but it'll do," Lori joked about their new accommodations as she helped Carol roll out the futon on the concrete floor.

After the futon had been laid out, Carol turned to gather the quilts as Beth walked by. "Those are beautiful," Beth said admiring the quilts. "They remind me of my Mama. She liked quilting."

"Here," Carol told her, passing her a quilt made of white, lavender, and light green material. "You can have this one. It's the prettiest." She smiled. She knew the girl was still struggling after losing so much.

Beth reached for the quilt, her eyes filling with tears. "Thanks, Carol." She reached over and gave Carol a shy hug.

"Don't mention it, sweetheart," Carol said lovingly as she rubbed Beth's arms in soothing strokes. "Do you want to help me see if we can loot some pillows?" Her eyes danced playfully as she smiled.

"Sure," said Beth wiping her eyes.

The group was all smiles as they excitedly explored their new treasure trove. They found some camping equipment which they immediately put to use. Carl hollered out a joyful "Awesome!" when he discovered a stack of comic books in a chipped plastic container.

Daryl made his way towards the others after clearing the office. He found Carol with Beth rummaging through several boxes, and he handed her a huge stack of moving blankets wrapped in plastic that he had been carrying.

"I found 'em in the office. Figured they'd come in handy." He gave her a reserved half smile.

"Absolutely, Daryl. I know just what to do with these," she told him. She stood there awkwardly holding the large bundle. "Thank you."

He stood there for a few moments with a pained look on his face. He wondered if he should have taken the blankets back and helped Carol find a more suitable place for them. But then Carol turned away and placed them on top of an unopened box.

"I told Rick that I'm gonna go out and see about getting dinner," he announced giving her a nod. "Enjoy the scavenger hunt." He tossed Beth a courtesy glance before leaving hastily.

After their new accommodations had been arranged, Carol set out with Beth and Carl to gather firewood. She knew Daryl would be back with something. He was a good hunter. Sure enough, after she had lit the fire and started boiling some water they could drink, Daryl came traipsing out from the woods with a slew of squirrels on his belt.

"It's not much," he told her sitting down beside the fire on a chair that Carol had dragged over. He started to prepare the squirrels for cooking.

"It's enough," she heartened as she knelt down and began to help him.

The two of them worked in silence. It was quiet, peaceful, with just the sound of the cicadas serenading them. Every so often the sound of someone's gleeful laughter floated up from the concrete buildings. The sun was setting behind the tree line casting warm orange light and long shadows on the hillside.

The fire crackled and popped as Daryl finished skinning and gutting the last of the squirrels. He gazed at Carol who was intently cutting up the meat into the pan. Her small hands were steady and sure with the knife, but her eyes were sad and distant. He realized she was thinking about Sophia. He felt his chest tighten as he watched her work. She seemed to him a figure of serene and sorrowful beauty as the last of the daylight illuminated her.

He heard the hushed voices singing out from the storage units. He turned his head in that direction, but he didn't see anyone approaching. He turned back and watched Carol set the pan on the camping grill. "How come it's always you out here doin' all the work?" he asked somewhat irritated.

Carol was pulled from her thoughts. "Hmmm?" She lifted her head to give him a puzzled look.

A sharp crease formed on his brow as he pointed emphatically to the building. "They got mouths come time for feedin'. But I ain't seen none of 'em ever lift a hand to help you."

She shrugged. "You're here."

He grunted affirmatively and stiffened a little in the chair.

She shook the pan some before placing it back on the grill. "Besides, I don't mind," her voice growing more remote. "I need to do something. What else do I have to offer?" She stirred the meat and then opened a can of vegetables.

He bristled wiping his knife on his pant leg as he stood. He shook his head. Her humility was unnerving. _How could she not see?_ he questioned to himself. He bit at the inside of his lip and stood there looking puzzled. A voice within him responded, _Maybe she don't know._ Then, he remembered she was married to an asshole. He growled. "Ain't no burden."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. She felt exposed. He had read her like a cheap paperback. It was shameful. She wanted to slip away and make herself invisible, but there was nowhere to escape to. So, she hid behind the frying pan and stirred in the vegetables.

He watched her collapse into herself and make herself smaller. He wondered how that was even possible as he stared at her small frame. He didn't understand why she was retreating. He blamed himself. He tried not to be abrasive around her, but he wasn't really used to considering someone else's feelings. The heavy sensation in the pit of his stomach churned in his confusion. He chewed at the skin around his fingernail. He was disappointing her. "I mean it," he forced. "Hell, you do a lot for us." He realized he was towering over her, so he sat back down in the chair.

"Not enough," she quietly objected shaking her head. "Not like you."

He puffed out a sigh of disbelief. He glared at her raising a skeptical eyebrow.

She turned to him. "Anybody can cook a meal, Daryl. Wash a pair of pants. You risk your life every day trying to save people's lives. Our lives." She turned back to the pan, angry and defeated, stirring the stew brusquely. "I can't do any of that. I couldn't save Sophia. I can't even save my own life. I want to be able to do that."

He twitched at the mention of Sophia's name. The regret perched onto his shoulders before a light bulb went off inside Daryl's head. "You wanna learn to fight?"

She turned back to him. "I want to learn how to defend myself. I want to learn how to survive."

He could do this. He nodded his head. "I can show you." He would do this for her.

Carol's smile began to radiate across her entire face until her eyes shimmered with hope. It knocked the air out of him. He nearly tumbled out of the chair.

* * *

Over dinner, the group happily shared about their newly discovered treasures and then discussed plans for the night's watch. It was agreed that Hershel and Rick would take first watch. Rick expressed concern about their being low on ammo and thought they should head out to a hunting store within the next few days.

Carol left the dishes to be cleaned up by the others. It had been a long day and she was tired. She left with Daryl on the short walk to their accommodations to retire for the night.

When Daryl saw the unit they expected him to sleep in with Carol and T-Dog he almost bolted. He had half a mind to tear through another unit just by himself. But it was dark now and Carol had gone through the trouble of building them each a bed from the packing blankets he had given her and he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

T-Dog was already reclined next to the wall. "Oh, it's about to get real cozy up in here," he stated sarcastically.

"Just like a slumber party," Carol teased back in a singsongy voice, easing herself to the ground next to him.

T-Dog looked at Carol, chuckled and shook his head.

Daryl looked between the both of them. "Party? This ain't no reason to celebrate."

"No, it's not," Carol stated looking at Daryl expectantly while fluffing a small pillow. "But we're alive. Safe for now." She stuck with the positives for his benefit trying to encourage him. She set the pillow down and lay down on her back.

"There's that," T-Dog agreed. "Small blessings."

Daryl scoffed and reluctantly closed the unit door before he climbed into the empty space on the blankets. It was tight. He laid on his side facing the interior of the room and let out an exasperated sigh. He was uncomfortable, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He saw Carol reach up behind her to turn off the camping lantern that was emitting a cold blue light into the small space. Then there was nothing but total darkness.

"Good night," stated T as he tossed about trying to get more comfortable.

"Good night," Carol replied cheerfully pulling the quilt up to her chin.

Daryl grunted into the darkness.

Carol lay there in the dark with a smile on her face. Although her body ached with exhaustion, she was brimming with anticipation. Daryl had told her he would teach her how to fight. No one had ever offered to show her how to defend herself. She felt grateful and relieved. She let the feeling of relief spread through her entire body and carry her off into a deep sleep.

She awoke in the night, freezing cold, to the sound of the unit door opening. She could make out Daryl's silhouette standing overhead. He leaned over and tapped T-Dog in the leg. T let out a soft groan, before whispering, "I'm up."

It was the changing of the guard. It was the third shift. She had been so tired she slept through the first shift change. She heard the sounds of rustling as T-Dog stirred and stood up. Daryl said something to him in a hushed voice and then T disappeared.

"What time is it?" Carol asked quietly, her voice all husky with sleep.

"Early," said Daryl keeping his voice down as he stepped into the unit. "Too early." He closed the door and made his way back to his spot in the total darkness. He was immediately grateful for the slight padding provided by the blankets underneath him. His body ached with fatigue. As he lay there in the silent darkness he could hear Carol's teeth chattering.

The cold night air had chilled the concrete beneath them. Carol pulled up the thin quilt over her head and breathed heavily on her fingers in efforts to reduce her shivering.

"You cold?" He was concerned.

"Ju-just a l-little," she trembled.

He pulled his poncho over his head and spread it across her shoulders. "Here."

"No, Daryl," she refused, "you need that. I can't."

"Just take the damn thing," he argued in a firm voice. "I'm fine."

She sat up on her elbows and furrowed her brows in distress. "Will you at least share it with me?"

Daryl froze. He didn't say anything and she couldn't see his expression. She started to shift her position and nervously rearranged the blanket and poncho, holding them up towards him. "Let me share them," she said.

"I said I'm fine," he jabbed still holding his breath. His body was rigid and unmoving.

She stopped moving sensing his discomfort of the implied closeness. "Honestly, Daryl, I'm not gonna bite you. But I won't be able to go back to sleep if I think that you're suffering in the cold. Please?" She was insistent.

Daryl was flustered. He bit his lip. The space was tight enough and now she was asking him to share a blanket. Yet, there was something in the tone of her pleading voice that cut through him. It made him want to yield to her. It left him defenseless.

"Fine," he said sharply, still tightly wound. He begrudgingly moved a little closer to her. He pointedly searched out in the darkness for the blankets and grabbed at them sourly when he found them.

Carol gasped when she felt him pull harshly on the blankets. She eased herself back down and slowly edged her way a little closer to Daryl while also attempting to leave him with enough personal space. She was afraid of riling him up.

Fitfully, he lay down on his side next to Carol. He could feel the warmth of her running along the front side of his body. He felt trapped with the wall so close behind him. He forced himself to take a few slow, deep breaths. _Get it together,_ he thought.

Daryl was like a furnace. Her body warmed quickly enough that she stopped trembling, but her body remained tense. She felt Daryl settling beside her. She willed herself to relax and closed her eyes.

He felt the movement of the blanket cease. "You warm enough now?" His voice was gentler, tender even.

His words caught her by surprise, but his tenor was soothing. "Mmm hmm," she murmured barely rousing. It was all she could manage as she let the cozy warmth seep in. She felt herself drift down into a peaceful slumber.

Daryl listened to Carol's breathing deepen and even out before he truly allowed himself to relax. He had to admit that the shared warmth was more comfortable than he'd imagined. He took another deep breath in and caught her scent. It was sweet and earthy and oddly calming. It reminded him of the lush soil deep in the woods, all fresh and vibrant after it rained. So, he immersed himself in her fragrance and allowed it to soothe all the thorny edges of his frame. The panic that was swelling inside began to smooth out and grow still. He felt his eyelids grow heavy with the promise of verdant dreams, so he let sleep take him there.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone. I'm glad you are liking the story. I'm enjoying writing it. Trigger Warning: Please note that there is mention of domestic violence in this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

When Carol awoke, daylight was filtering through the cracks of the unit door. She felt weighted down even though she felt rested for the first time since the world had gone to hell. She noticed that Daryl's arm had fallen across her during the night. She panicked wondering how he might react to such an innocent situation. He was mistrustful and recoiled from touch. She didn't want him to be angry with her. Not after he'd promised to teach her how to fight.

She turned her head slightly to take him in. He looked so vulnerable coiled up next to her sound asleep. His face was nearly nuzzled into her neck. She listened to the heavy rhythm of his breathing. It pained her to think about this tender side of him that he tried to keep so deeply hidden. He was tightly wound, defensive, as if he expected harm to come to him. She understood that feeling. She knew how that had come to be. Though he had tried to hide them, Carol had seen the scars on his back that night he had returned with Sophia's doll and a puncture wound in his side from where he had fallen on his own arrow trying to find her daughter. Even before she had seen the scars, she knew that Daryl had had his own asshole in his life, his daddy most likely, who tried to beat out the sweetness that lived in the very core of him. It hurt to remember how Daryl had recoiled from the kiss of gratitude she had planted on his forehead. He didn't understand why she had been so grateful to him. He had risked so much for her and he had no idea how significant his actions had been and what they had meant to her. She told him, but he still couldn't see who he really was. It saddened her that she had to tell him about his own worth. She told him that he was every bit as good as the others. _Every bit._ And secretly, Carol respected Daryl more than the others because he had made much more of an effort to help her. It was harder for him because no one had ever believed in him, and he was trying so hard to do what was right.

She was growing quite fond of Daryl. Yes, he was prickly, but his heart was always in the right place. He was kindhearted, but insecure. Getting close to others was a terrifying necessity for him. As much as he prized his solitude, he couldn't make it on his own. Not now. Carol learned quickly that patience was the more effective approach with him. Humor worked, too, if he was in the right mood. If she pushed him too far outside his comfort zone, he lashed out. But as much as Daryl bit out, he was still honorable. He would do what was needed if he could. He just needed time to come to his own conclusions. They were building trust together. It was precarious, but it was a start.

She felt his hand jerk and pull at her belly. He began to stir beside her, letting out a soft groan. She closed her eyes and feigned sleep. She knew it would be worse for Daryl if he knew she had seen him in this way. He would be embarrassed if she had witnessed his humanity, his accidental closeness. He was so afraid that his tenderness would portray him as weak. When really it was the thing she admired most about him. So she kept her distance and played along waiting for him to realize that there was nothing wrong with wanting comfort.

Daryl was dreaming about his mother's garden. It was a memory from long ago that he'd almost forgotten. He was just a little boy, barely out of diapers. He remembered seeing her, his mama, kneeling on the ground, her hands plunged deep into the moist earth as she planted seeds. She glistened under the sun like the angel they had hung on the Christmas tree. It was a hot day, and beads of sweat had gathered along her brow and the back of her neck. There were a few strands of hair which fell alongside her cheeks from the single braid in which she had always worn her long, brown hair. They blew across her face in the light breeze as she worked. He adored her. She smiled at him as he toddled towards her, his hands outstretched proudly offering her a fragrant, white flower that he had picked. She wiped the hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand and sat back on her heels. Her eyes were the color of the sky.

"Did you pick this for me, Daryl?" she asked him affectionately as she reached out to take the flower from him.

He beamed at her and shook his head proudly as his mother accepted the flower from him. He grabbed at his hands excitedly when she placed the flower behind her ear.

"You wook pwetty, Mama," he gushed jubilantly.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet boy," she told him as she gathered him into her arms. "I love you."

She showered Daryl with kisses and he squirmed with glee. He felt light and free. _Safe._ He hugged her eagerly and she smelled like roses and home. _Home_.

The image of her faded like an antique photograph. It browned at the edges and lost all its color until all he could see was the light where her face had been. Only the sweet smell of her remained. He reached out and tried to hold onto the memory of her. _Mama._

He felt the security of her warmth and breathed in her sweetness. He wanted to stay there in her arms. A soft moan of pleasure escaped from his lips. _Comfort._

He opened his eyes slowly. The garden had disappeared. He was in a darkened room that was very dimly lit. He was still warm and the feeling of contentment bubbled up from within his well rested body. He could stay here all day feeling this relaxed. _Where am I, _he wondered somewhat blissfully disoriented. He reluctantly started to move, trying to gather the warmth around him. He was not quite ready to fully awaken. There was a pleasant smell in the air around him. _Earthy._ He felt something soft shifting beneath his hand. Something warm. _ Alive._ He heard the gentle sound of someone breathing. _Her._

The thought sent a jolt through Daryl fully awakening him with a start. _The storage unit._ He remembered. His eyes saw her then sleeping peacefully. _Carol._ He was curled around her, holding her. _Don't let go_. He was flooded by conflicting feelings. The shock of it all coming fully into his awareness had him quickly retreating from her. He scrambled away until his back met the wall. The sudden coldness of it startled him. His breath quickly turned rapid and shallow. He was immobilized as the coolness bit into him. He immediately missed her warmth.

Carol began to stir and awaken. Her movement set him in motion. Clumsily, he lunged for the door and opened it quickly. The brightness of the morning sunlight blinded him and he stopped reflexively to cover his eyes with his arm.

"Good morning," Carol asserted as she arose, shielding her eyes from the harsh light.

He looked towards her trying to hide the confused terror on his face. She was just a darkened shadow. He couldn't get a read on her expression. He acknowledged her with a nod and reached down to grab his crossbow. A lump was constricting his throat. "Mornin'," he finally managed to squeeze out awkwardly as he stood.

"You sleep okay?" she inquired keeping her voice steady.

_Okay?_ The memory of lying next to her floated up around him like a warm bubble. It had made him dream of the safest place he had ever known. Speechless, he simply nodded and gazed at her waiting for his eyes to adjust. He wanted to see her face. Those eyes. Blue eyes like his mother's. _Did she notice?_ He didn't want to find out so he walked away, hurriedly, too afraid to look back.

* * *

A short time later that morning, after receiving a lecture from Rick about safety, Carol gathered with Lori, Beth, and Maggie down at the widest part of the creek. She was excited about the prospect of bathing, even if the water was cold. They had all stripped down to their underwear as they washed themselves and their dirty clothing.

Lori was hesitant as she sat at on a flat rock, pistol at her feet, scrubbing her shirt. "It's freezing," she complained.

Maggie floated out to the deepest part of the creek. "Just pretend it's a hot tub."

Lori groaned, "Oh, don't I wish." She stood reluctantly and stepped gingerly into the brisk water tossing Carol one of the thin bars of soap they had taken from the roadside motel they stayed in earlier that week. "Hot tub, hot tub," she persuaded herself, closing her eyes.

They giggled and gossiped and lamented not having any razors. Carol took the soap and lathered herself with it.

"I just wish we had a decent conditioner," Beth complained as she eased herself into the frigid water. "My hair is getting so dry and brittle."

"You and me both," Lori chimed in. "Carol's the smart one with the sensible style."

"Ha!" Carol expelled remembering the true reason she had really short hair. "I guess there's one advantage for having this shitty haircut. My hair used to be just a little bit longer than Maggie's. Ed gave this to me as a punishment one night shortly before all this happened. He took it off with a pair of clippers because he said I was acting too high and mighty." She explained as she washed herself.

Her body tensed as the memory of Ed pulling her by the hair into the bathroom came flooding back to her.

"Shut your fucking mouth, you stupid cunt," he had screamed at her as she had yelped in pain. He grabbed her by her throat so she couldn't scream and shoved her against the sink while he cut her hair off.

"You think you're something? You ain't nothing but a fat, ugly whore," he had reminded her as he ran those clippers over her head.

Carol shuddered recalling the anger in his eyes. She had felt lucky that she had escaped with her life that night.

"What an asshole," Maggie stated frankly, pulling Carol out of the memory.

"Yep," Carol agreed, sucking in a breath. She looked down at her hands and focused on feeling the coolness of the water on her skin as it anchored her in the present moment. She felt the self-hatred rising up. "I was an idiot for even marrying him."

Maggie gave her a sympathetic look. "Carol," she disagreed.

"Ed was the fool," Lori stepped in.

There were a few moments of awkward silence that followed. Carol was on the verge of beating up on herself again.

"Glenn's not like that," Carol smiled at Maggie, trying to get out of her head and remove the focus from herself. "He's really sweet. I can see why you like him."

Maggie blushed. "He is. He's thoughtful. He really cares about everyone. I really like that about him. Plus, he's super cute."

Maggie laughed and splashed at Beth. The girl shrieked when the cold water splashed across her face and chest. "Maggie!" she admonished in a lighthearted tone and then splashed back at her sister.

Carol handed the bar of soap to Beth and ran her soapy hands through her hair. She ducked her head under water and swam out to Maggie. The water felt refreshing. "I feel almost human now," she stated cheerfully.

They continued to playfully splash around after they had gotten themselves and their clothes clean. It was only after their skin started to wrinkle that they finally made their way out of the creek.

"Think the men missed us?" Lori inquired as they dried themselves off with the cheap motel towels.

"Of course they did," Maggie teased as she dressed. "What's not to miss?" She struck a coquettish pose with one hand on her hip.

They laughed heartily. For a few minutes, they forgot all about their situation and the plight of the world.

Carol was feeling invigorated as they made their way back up the hill to the storage units. T-Dog, Glenn, and Rick were gathered around the fire telling stories to Carl. They looked up when they heard them approaching.

"It don't matter where they go, women always take their sweet ass time in the bathroom," T-Dog explained teasingly to Carl.

Rick and Glenn laughed in agreement.

"We were just making ourselves beautiful," Maggie ribbed.

"I don't think that would've taken very long," Glenn flirted all starry-eyed at Maggie. He smiled.

Maggie smiled back at him. The two of them gazed longingly at each other.

"Oh ho ho!" T-Dog called out laughing. "That's my boy!"

They stood around engaging in lighthearted banter as the women hung up their wet clothing around the fire to dry. Carol stood there for a few moments before wandering over to the units where she knew she'd find Daryl on watch.

Daryl was standing on top of one of the concrete buildings keeping lookout while Hershel was down below patrolling. When Hershel saw Carol approaching he smiled.

"How's the water?" he inquired at her.

"A bit chilly, but I'm not complaining. It's the first real bath I've had in weeks seems like."

"I know what you mean," Hershel replied. "I plan to make my way down there as soon as Maggie gets back."

"Might be a while," explained Carol. "She kind of got detained. By Glenn." She chuckled. "He seems real sweet on her."

"That he does," Hershel agreed. "He's a nice boy."

Carol nodded and then looked up at Daryl who peered over the edge of the building at them.

"How's it look from up there?" she asked him.

"Fine. All clear," Daryl answered. "Kinda strange, ain't no stragglers come through." His face took on a puzzled look.

"We didn't see any by the creek either," said Carol echoing the surprise.

"I'm sure it won't last," Hershel warned.

Daryl nodded. That was their reality now. Sooner or later the walkers would come. They just never knew how many it would be. Carol grabbed at her arms as she thought about being on the run again. She looked spooked. Daryl recalled what they had discussed last night by the fire. She was scared, he knew that even before she looked up at him and he could see it plain on her face. He hated that look. Though he promised himself he'd look after her, he knew he couldn't always be there. It was right to teach her what he could so she had a chance.

"I ain't forgot," Daryl said acknowledging Hershel's words, but speaking to Carol.

She nodded at him and gave Hershel an awkward smile before turning to go rummage through one of the storage units. She needed something to keep her mind busy until Daryl was free. She engrossed herself in searching through the unit for something useful. Something she could use to defend herself. It was sort of like cleaning house and rearranging furniture which she would always do when she was upset. It was how she coped. It was something she could control.

She thought about the way that Daryl had torn out of the unit that morning. He couldn't get away fast enough. She didn't blame him, there wasn't a lot of space, and he wasn't used to being in close proximity to so many people. She figured if she cleaned this unit out for him, he could have some privacy back. She admitted to herself that she had felt safe last night with him sleeping beside her, but she didn't want to be the reason that pushed him away.

She stacked and organized the boxes she examined and cleared herself a path as she worked. She lifted some boxes towards the back of the unit and found two fishing poles that were stashed behind them against the wall. She pulled them out thinking Rick might like to take Carl fishing down at the creek. A few minutes later, she spotted a rust-colored tackle box sitting on a shelf and lifted it up. Inside there were some lures and small tools. She saw something black with a white stripe running down the middle of it. When she picked it up she noticed there was a lever mechanism on it. When she pressed the lever, a double-edged blade shot out the top of the handle, taking her by surprise. _A knife._ She released the blade and put it in her pocket. _Her_ knife.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"It's an automatic knife," Daryl was explaining to Carol in a gentle manner as he examined it. "It's got a small handle, so it'll be a good fit for a hand like yours."

He put the handle of the opened knife into her hand. "Feel that?"

Carol nodded feeling the heaviness of it in her palm before she gripped her fingers firmly around the handle.

"That's the balance," he pointed. "The weight of it."

"It feels good," she commented smiling.

"You like it?" he asked tilting his head and squinting at her. His voice held a soft lilt.

She nodded. Holding it gave her a new kind of confidence.

"Good," he nodded back. "It's gotta feel like it's a part of you."

They had gone into the woods a bit so that Carol's lesson wouldn't be a public performance. Daryl seemed to sense her discomfort and had led her to a secluded space between two yellowed Hickory trees. Carol felt grateful for his keen perception. She was nervous enough, she didn't want the watchful eyes of the others critiquing her every move.

She was embarrassed about her lack of physical prowess. She had never been athletic. The one or two times Ed had permitted her to take an aerobics class she had felt completely uncoordinated as the instructor had shouted out directions over the deafening, fast-tempoed dance music.

The trees were rustling in the gentle breeze. A few leaves descended gracefully around them. The late autumn air had warmed some as the sun had reached its apex, but it still remained crisp in the shade. Daryl moved about in front of Carol as he instructed her.

"Okay, now before you think about thrustin' that knife, you gotta think about where you get your power from. It don't come from your arm." He shook his head to stress his point. "It comes from here," he clarified putting his hand on his own abdomen. "The center of your body."

Carol mimicked him, placing her hand on her belly. Daryl nodded approvingly at her.

"Every move you make starts here," he continued. "Not at your hand. Got that?"

"Movement starts from the center," she understood.

"Right. Next you gotta think about your balance." He approached her and pushed gently but quickly on her shoulder. She staggered slightly.

"You feel that? What happened?" he asked her after she regained control of her body.

"You pushed me and I stumbled," she answered plainly.

"Why did you stumble?"

She briefly hesitated before she responded. "I felt unsteady from the force of your push."

He nodded at her. "Why did it make you feel unsteady?"

"Because-," she thought about it, chewing at her lip, "because you pushed and I wasn't ready for it?" She wasn't certain.

"Hmm. Alright," he said scratching at his head just behind his ear. He paused for a moment to think about how he wanted to explain his point. "Look at your feet."

She complied with his request. He pushed at her again. She tipped a little until she righted herself.

"Tell me about your feet," he expressed with interest, crossing his arms.

"When you pushed me, I shifted my weight more into my left foot and my right foot came off the ground a little bit."

"Okay. Step your feet apart a li'l wider there." He pointed down at her feet.

Again, she did what he asked. He pushed at her shoulder again. Her torso moved, but her feet didn't this time.

"What's different?" he questioned her.

"I didn't move as much. My weight still shifted but I felt more grounded."

"You were more steady on your feet, huh?"

"Yes," she agreed. "I was."

"So what does that tell you?" He crossed his arms again.

"That I have more stability when my feet are farther apart."

He nodded and gave her a slight smile. "That's right."

She smiled back. She was getting the hang of it.

"Now, think about the stance you wanna take if you were gonna thrust your knife forward into a walker who was about your height. Think about where the movement starts from. Feel the balance o' the knife in your hand."

Carol took a moment to ponder Daryl's words and then arranged her feet on the ground. She brought her attention to the knife in her hand. He circled around her. She could feel his eyes examining her as he did so.

"Now imagine that nasty geek's in front o' you. Ready to bite you. What're you gonna do?" he asked her.

She lifted her arm and swung down awkwardly across the air in front of her.

"Nope," he shook his head disapprovingly.

"No?" Carol turned her head, giving Daryl a puzzled look.

"Look at your fingers, your grip's all wrong. If that blade gets stuck you could cut your hand if it slips. Point your fingers down." His words were firm, but without cruelty.

She changed the position of the blade in her hand.

"That's it," he encouraged her. "Now try again."

She lifted her arm, this time turning her wrist slightly as she cut through the air at an angle.

"Better," he allowed.

Carol smiled to herself at his approval.

"But you gotta remember, those fuckers don't stop. They're always comin' at ya. So you gotta be light on your feet, ready to move. Bend your knees. Shift your weight onto the balls of your feet so you can stay in control o' your movement." He adeptly demonstrated his instructions as he spoke.

"Okay," she said, nodding her head as she understood. She bent her knees and shifted her weight, then stiffly swung her arm into the air again.

He watched her swing the knife. "You nervous?" he inquired narrowing his eyes.

"What?"

"You look tense," he clarified. "Relax a little."

Carol had been so focused she hadn't realized how rigid her body was. She relaxed her shoulders and swung again less clumsily.

"That's it," he told her. "You feel the difference?"

She nodded smiling. She was enjoying this. Daryl was a good instructor. He had a simple way of explaining things so that she understood.

"You got the basics, but now think about the challenges. What would you do if the son of a bitch was taller than you? Lemme see that," he said requesting her knife. He came forward a step and stood in front of her about an arm's length away.

She handed him the knife, handle first. He analyzed it briefly. "Your knife ain't that big. How're you gonna get it where it needs to go?"

Carol bit at her lip and pondered Daryl's question. She lifted up on her toes and made the same stabbing motion towards Daryl with her empty fist.

"That it? Think that'll do?" He prodded her. "Try it again."

She stood up on her toes again and went to repeat the action with her arm. Daryl pushed at her and she lost her balance. She stumbled backwards.

"Not that easy, huh?" he asked her raising his eyebrow. "It might work, but there's not a lot o' room for error. You can also try thrustin' the knife up or kickin' the son of a bitch in the knees so you have better leverage. Find your advantage. Use it. You're smarter than them lame-brained idiots. Alls they know is instinct. Don't be afraid to throw your weight around an' pull the bastards off balance."

Daryl continued his instruction as the afternoon progressed. He showed her some basic kicks and punches and had her practice them for a good long while. Before long, Carol was bobbing and weaving as she shadowboxed imaginary walkers. By the time they finished she was drenched in sweat. She felt exhilarated. A healthy pinky glow gleamed on her cheeks.

Carol was cheery as they made their way back to the units. Daryl felt pleased with himself that he had been part of the reason she was in such a good mood. "You did good," he offered her proudly.

Carol had told him he was a good instructor. He dodged the compliment and told her that she was a quick learner. She had been easy to coach. While he knew that she had picked up a great deal, she was still inexperienced. She needed more practice if she was ever going out on a run. Shit happened. There was no time for hesitation or panic. Carol still seemed nervous and unsure of herself. He had agreed to spend a little time with her every day training her to help build her confidence. When he felt she was ready he would take her out on a run with him to give her some field experience.

As they sauntered up to the concrete building which now served as their living quarters, she pulled at his elbow playfully, guiding him in front of one of the unit doors. "I have a surprise for you," she smiled at him. Her eyes glowed with a mischievous glint.

"Oh yeah?" He couldn't imagine what it might be. The anticipation fluttered in his stomach when he saw the way she was looking at him.

She opened the unit door. "Ta da!" she announced with her arms outstretched.

Daryl looked inside. The unit had mostly been cleared out except for a few larger pieces of furniture. In the empty space were laid some packing blankets, a quilt, Daryl's poncho, and a couple of small pillows.

"What's this?" he asked uncertainly. His chest suddenly tightened.

"It's yours," she beamed excitedly. "I had some time earlier when I was waiting for you. I thought you might like it better. Less crowded." She smiled at him knowingly.

His heart sank. He didn't understand why he suddenly felt disappointed. _She don't want me near her._

She was confused by the look on his face. He looked frustrated. "Is it okay? I know I couldn't move everything out, but at least you won't have to sleep with your back up against the wall."

"You tryin' to get rid o' me?" Daryl snarled suspiciously as his eyes narrowed. A dark heaviness was growing inside him, numbing his senses.

"No," she chuckled nervously. "I-I just thought you'd be, um, more comfortable with the space." Carol grew more uneasy as he seemed to be getting more irritated. She worried maybe she hadn't done enough. "Daryl, is there something wrong?"

"It's fine," he barked feeling inadequate. He turned away from her, his eyes rapidly scrutinizing the room. "I woulda moved stuff." His voice was faint, almost detached. The numbness grew within him as he moved into the space in a sort of daze. "Coulda hurt yourself," he mumbled bitterly. His eyes glanced at the quilt. It looked similar to the one he had shared with her last night. The sudden recollection of the warm, relaxed feeling he had while holding her flashed in his mind alarming him. Panicking, he suppressed it. He thrust it deep within, beyond the numbness, denying it as if it never happened. _What the hell is this doin' here?_ He snatched up the blanket. "Don't you need this?" There was a sudden intensity to his voice. He handed it to her gruffly.

"No, that's an extra one for you." Carol grew more timid reflexively. Her chest collapsed. Her skin grew clammy. She didn't move to take it.

Daryl growled. "Take it," he hissed vaguely puffing out his chest. "Ain't gonna be any warmer tonight."

"But it'll be cold in here by yourself. You'll need it." She was stubbornly refusing to take the blanket and it was infuriating him.

Hiseyes narrowed as he glared at her. _By yourself._ He wasn't sure why the words bit into him. He was fine on his own. He didn't need the stupid blanket. He didn't need her to look after him. The pressure in his chest was unbearable. "Quit your motherin'," he snapped. "I'm a grown ass man! Take the fuckin' blanket and leave me the hell alone." He tossed the blanket at her feet as he walked away in a huff.

Carol flinched when Daryl threw the blanket at her suddenly and stormed off in the direction of the woods with his crossbow firmly in hand. She was confused. _Where did I go wrong?_ Daryl had done a kind thing and taught her how to defend herself. She thought she was returning the favor by giving him his own space. But she couldn't even do that right. Maybe what he'd said last night was right, she was trying too hard to be helpful. She didn't know what do with herself. She could hear Ed's voice clamoring in her head, _You'll always be a useless bitch._

All the energy that had invigorated her from the day's activities suddenly drained from her body. Every muscle cried out resentfully. She walked slowly over to her unit, lifted the door and crawled inside. She had to lay down. Her body ached with exhaustion. As soon as she closed the door behind her, Carol collapsed into a heap of defeat onto her blankets. As she lay there, the guilt percolated, consuming her thoughts. She should be out gathering firewood. But she did not have any energy to fight the throbbing fatigue that had rapidly spread across her entire body. One of the others would probably get to it. She pulled the quilt over her head. _What was the point?_

* * *

It was quiet. The peace of it had melted away the cynical resistance which had clambered into his mind with a throbbing force. Daryl wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there with his back up against a birch tree, staring at the pile of dead leaves at his feet. He had long ago given up on the notion of hunting. He had stomped aimlessly into the woods a good ways before he had realized any game around would have heard him coming and skittered away. His breathing had returned to normal and he was starting to become more aware of his surroundings.

He had been angry, but he wasn't even sure what had set him off exactly. He'd acted like an ass in front of Carol. Again. He got flustered around her a lot, it seemed, and he didn't have any idea how to deal with that. It felt like he was always putting his foot in his mouth which only confused things for him even more.

He never had someone be nice to him without wanting something in return. It was hard to accept. He wasn't sure why, but Carol had cleared out that unit for him. _She ain't shown you nothin' but kindness, _he thought to himself_._ He should have been appreciative of her effort; hell, he had the idea to do it himself the night before. Instead, he had acted like an ingrate and nearly threw a blanket in her face like a willful child. _Always fuckin' shit up_, he told himself.

They were friends. He knew that was true. Carol had told him they were. She didn't deserve the grief he gave her. _Ain't right._ _Puffin' out your chest? That who you are now?_ _What're you tryin' to prove?_ He couldn't even answer for himself. He felt foolish and he knew had to apologize to her. She had been understanding before, so he hoped she would again. The sudden fear of losing her friendship panged in his gut. He liked her. And when he got honest with himself, he admitted that he cared about her. He didn't want to squander their friendship. It was too important. It was starting to mean something to him. He just didn't know what exactly yet.

Daryl stood and gathered his crossbow. He was losing the light and had to get back to camp. It would be his turn for watch soon. He shot a few errant squirrels on his way back to camp so he wouldn't have to return empty handed. He felt he had caused enough disappointment for one day.

The sky was a dark shade of crimson as he returned. Most of the others were sitting around the fire chatting.

"Any luck hunting?" Rick inquired as he saw Daryl approaching.

Daryl tossed the dead squirrels down and looked at all the expectant faces. The corners of his lips tightened. "Not much," he replied looking down into the fire hiding his disgrace. He didn't see Carol there. The hope that had been sitting precariously in his chest suddenly plummeted down the center of his body.

Maggie picked up the fresh kills. "It's something. Me an' Beth can make a stew." She smiled softly.

He nodded at her and shifted the weight in his feet awkwardly as he stood there. He wondered where Carol was. Maybe she had listened to him and took the night off. His stomach tightened. Something wasn't right.

Someone was talking but he really didn't hear what was being said. He didn't really care at the moment. "Where's Carol?" he interrupted.

Blank faces stared at each other and then back at him. Beth was the first to speak up. "I haven't seen her since this morning when we got back from the creek."

Hershel nodded his head in agreement. A quiet look of concern settled across his face.

"Wasn't she with you earlier?" Lori inquired. She looked at Daryl doubtfully.

He felt his chest constrict with guilt. The air burned as he took a breath in. "We got back a couple hours ago before I went out again." He studied them deliberately. Rick's face was stony and impassive. It made the hair on the back of his neck bristle with ire. Daryl became apprehensive. "You mean to tell me, you ain't seen her?" His voice took on a grave quality and grew acidic. He was dismayed at their blank faces. "None of you saw fit to ask her how she was doin'?" he interrogated them. "What the hell's wrong with you people?" He threw his arm out at them in a wide, dismissive motion.

Rick shifted and stood up, the concern only now mirrored on his face. "Don't put yourself out," Daryl slung the words at him bitterly.

He left abruptly keeping an intense pace until he reached the units. The door to her unit was closed. He hoped she was in there. A gnawing sense of urgency compelled him. He had to make sure. Without thinking, he lifted the door with a quick tug. It clattered opened with a squeaky rattle.

The room was dark. He shined his small flashlight inside. When he didn't see her immediately, he panicked. His breathing grew short and rapid. "Carol?" he called out to her in distress. There was a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. When there was no response, he called to her again. "Carol?"

He thought he saw something move in the shadows where the quilt lay. He knelt down and blindly searched with his hands. The warm lump under the blanket stirred slightly. "Carol?" he said the relief breaking through in his voice.

Carol sat up quickly pulling the blanket from her face. "Daryl? Is everything okay?" Her body felt heavy and stiff.

He chuckled lightly. "Yeah," he told her, letting out a deep breath. "Just makin' sure."

Her brows came together in a look of confusion. Daryl took note of the dullness in her eyes. The sparkle that was usually present was missing. "What time is it?" she inquired, her voice cracked and bleary from sleep.

"Almost dinner time."

Carol made a move to get up. "Okay, I'll get everything ready."

Daryl pushed her back down gently using the tips of his fingers. "Relax. Been takin' care of."

The crease in her brown deepened with worry. "I'm sorry, I was feeling really tired." She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but the sparkle remained absent.

The absence of the sparkle troubled him. "Ain't no need to apologize. You worked hard today. Hell, you work hard every day. You deserve a break." He gave her a quick, reassuring smile as he sat back against the wall.

A comfortable silence enclosed around them as they looked at each other. There was a flash of recognition in Daryl's eyes. It was enough for Carol to feel a glimmer of validation rise up in her chest. The crease in her brow softened. In that moment, nothing else needed saying that had not already been acknowledged between the two of them.

The intensity of the encounter made Carol suddenly self-conscious. She looked down at her hands searching for something to say.

"Daryl," she began ruefully, "I don't mean to mother you. I know you can take care of yourself." She looked at him sincerely.

He dropped his gaze. _She thinks it's her fault._ He felt embarrassed by her remorse. "Shit ain't your fault, Carol." The words fell soft and easy from his tongue. He looked at her penitently. "Don't go thinkin' it is."

"But-"

"Just don't." He held her gaze imploringly as he atoned. "I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"I guess I'm just not used to that," she said in a moment of revelation. She suddenly felt a lightness in her chest as if some burden had been peeled away.

"Used to what? Me being an ass?" he asked her skeptically.

She shook her head and smiled lightly. "Not being blamed. Everything was always my fault. Before."

She wouldn't say his name, but Daryl knew she was talking about her asshole husband. A subtle indignation simmered within him for all the ways that she had been hurt by that creep. He felt protective of her with a surprising fierceness; he would have killed the bastard if he wasn't already dead.

"It ain't," he said bluntly staring her straight in the eye.

The remaining heaviness in Carol's body evaporated as his words penetrated the core of her being, emancipating her from the woeful fetters of her past. She smiled at him. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and behind them, Daryl could see the sparkle returning. The sight of it pulled tenderly at the thick mass around his heart.

"I never met anyone who cared as much as you without wantin' nothin' for themselves." He looked down bashfully at the crossbow in his lap. "Hell, I kinda like it," he confessed. "Suppose it's also somethin' takes a li'l gettin' used to."

He met her eyes again and the corners of his mouth shifted upwards readily. She wiped at her eyes and nodded at him with assurance. He was making an earnest effort.

They sat quietly together as the darkness set in. Finally, he asked her, "You hungry?"

"Starving," she replied her eyes opening widely in confirmation.

"Yeah, I figured," he said standing up, extending his hand to her. She took it and he gently pulled her up. He hesitated for a brief moment, maintaining the contact with her purposefully. He looked endearingly at her. She felt his calloused thumb ghosting across the top of her delicate hand. The sincerity of this simple gesture resonated up her arm sending tender shock waves throughout her body. Her eyes glowed brighter, more hopeful. A sense of satisfaction surfaced at the edges of Daryl's face. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. He slowly turned to leave. "C'mon. Let's go find out what those assholes did to dinner."

"Don't be mean," she said playfully and followed him out into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **Thank you for your reviews! They are very motivating. :) This started as a simple one-shot. Thanks for your encouragement to keep going.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Daryl awoke in the early morning, his body stiff from the cold. He cursed at himself for throwing that blanket at Carol. It continued to be bitterly cold at night, but he had too much pride to ask her for the blanket back. _Dumbass._ He was beginning to rethink his strategy. Maybe Carol did know what was good for him after all. He was starting to wonder how he could ever doubt her. The woman knew things about him. Just knew. He liked that about her, but it also unnerved him. It made things confusing for him.

He got up and made his way outside into the frosty air. He knew Glenn or someone would be grateful to be relieved from watch. He made his way up above on the small utility ladder they had found. Glenn was pacing on the roof trying to stay warm. He came over when he heard Daryl approaching.

"Hey," Glenn said surprised to see him. "You're early. Change isn't for another hour."

"You wanna complain about it or get another hour of sleep?" Daryl grumbled. Lack of sleep always made him grouchy.

Glenn put his hands in the air in surrender. "Easy. Didn't get your beauty sleep, did you?"

Daryl glared at him humorlessly.

"Okay, I'm going. T's down there patrolling. I'll let him know we switched out."

Daryl nodded and watched Glenn climb down the ladder and disappear around the building. A few minutes later he reappeared briefly before disappearing again into his unit.

Daryl liked being on watch. It was something to do and it gave him time alone. He stared out into the night. The waxing gibbous moon was setting near the horizon casting an eerie glow. His breath was illuminated in short, silver wisps that danced in the air.

They would probably need to move on from here soon the way Daryl figured. It was getting too cold at night as winter rapidly approached. Rick was concerned about Lori. They had managed to avoid the herd for now, but the danger still lurked. Since they arrived, there had been surprisingly few walkers that had wandered close to camp. Never more than three at a time. But it only took one to cause problems. Just like it had for Dale. They tried not to use the guns for safety reasons. They were lucky they hadn't needed to yet. And there were two of them on watch at all times.

They were going on the ammo run as soon as the sun rose. They'd had a few days of rest, but Rick felt it was time to stock up. The fall of the farm had taught them all that they weren't safe anywhere for very long. Everyone needed to be prepared. He wanted everyone trained. He had scouted the road leading west and found an open field he thought would be a good place to set up a firing range. It was too risky to have it close to camp.

The wind picked up sharply sending a shiver up Daryl's spine. Daryl saw T-Dog make his way out of the shadows towards the unit. When he saw Daryl on the roof he gave him the all clear signal. Daryl acknowledged him and watched him wake Rick for shift change and then climb back into the unit he shared with Carol. He was envious of the warmth that he knew was waiting there for him inside. He felt a stabbing sensation in his gut as his fists tightened. An image of T-Dog snuggled under a blanket with Carol flickered in his mind and made him prickle. He groaned to himself as he looked away.

Impetuously, he climbed down the ladder and found Rick. He told him he'd walk the perimeter. He needed a change of scenery. He didn't want to be thinking about Carol. He wandered along the tree line rubbing his hands together under his poncho. Daryl kept his eyes trained into the darkness of the woods and made a mental note to pick up a pair of gloves on the run. _Focus up_.

But something smoldered and scratched in the back of his brain. He was agitated. Against his will, his eyes kept returning to the concrete building. Every betrayal pricked him at the bottom of his gut like a jagged barb._ What the hell you lookin' for?_

He bit at the skin around his fingernail as if he could remove the irritant with his teeth. He quickened his gait like his boots were on fire. He stared into the darkness trying to discern the shadows and started counting out the shrubs as he passed.

Before long, the moon finally set cloaking the hillside in complete darkness. He took out his flashlight and shined it on the ground in front of him and into the trees. There was nothing out there. Just the quiet babble of the creek disturbed the stillness of the night. The only horror was what lurked in Daryl's imagination.

Dawn arrived at a painstaking pace. Daryl met up with Rick, Glenn, and Maggie in the parking lot in front of the small office building. After a while, the others started their ritual gathering to send them off. Carol arrived with T-Dog beside her. She was grinning and laughing and Daryl watched her rest her hand lightly on the man's arm. The barbs jabbed at him and he felt the heat rising on his neck. He coiled into himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and he let out a low growl. _What's so funny?_ He turned to avoid looking at her and intently focused on what Rick was saying.

"If anything happens, wait for us at the field up the road," Rick was telling Hershel and Lori who had already crowded around the Suburban. "We should be back by noon."

Rick turned to Carl. "Stay close to your mother," he warned, giving him a stern look.

"I will," Carl replied smiling sheepishly as his father mussed his hair.

Daryl approached his bike and threw his leg across it as the others climbed into the Bronco. He released the kickstand and started the engine. It rumbled noisily as it idled. He felt a gentle nudge and he flinched. He turned and suddenly found himself staring into Carol's blue eyes. The sparkle he saw there unraveled him, and he fell into the seat clumsily.

"Stay safe," she bid him fondly and flashed him a wide smile that made the sparkle reverberate warmly inside his chest.

He blinked trying to break the spell. He reached for the words, but couldn't find any. So, he simply nodded. He let out the breath he was holding. Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes from her, directing his attention to shifting the bike into gear, and then turning it widely to follow the Suburban out and down the country road. For miles, Daryl felt the echo of her smile protecting him like a shield against the icy bite of the wind.

* * *

Carol sat at the patio table with a faded orange umbrella that someone had dragged out of one of the storage units. She was playing Solitaire with a deck of cards she had found in one of the boxes. It helped to keep her mind occupied. She was worried about the others on the run. Everyone was. She had tried to comfort Lori, but she was being too negative, and Carol could only take so much of that. It was too draining. She needed a distraction from her own fears, she couldn't wallow in it. That only made things worse. It was like walking on a tightrope, it was too easy to fall into the misery or be tempted to hang herself with the rope in despair.

"How many games is that now?" T-Dog inquired as he passed by on his patrol.

"Seven," Carol answered without looking up. "I think. I've lost count."

He chuckled. "Didn't know that game was so excitin'."

"It's not really," Carol responded casually placing the 10 of Hearts on the Jack of Spades. "Just something to do."

"I hear that. Maybe later we can play a hand of Rummy?"

Carol looked up. T-Dog was standing a few feet from the table, his hand over his eyes guarding them from the morning sun. "Sure," she winked. "Carl tells me you're a fierce opponent."

"He said that, huh?" he chortled. "Maybe that's because I caught him cheatin'."

Carol giggled.

"It's true. Gotta keep an eye on that boy," he smirked. "I'm tellin' you."

T-Dog sauntered off across the grass towards the trees. Carol, with a brighter spirit, returned to her game. When she finished the game, she'd realized she'd had enough, and decided to try something else.

* * *

Daryl was frustrated. He was off his game. Distracted. It was dangerous. He had been thinking about Carol since they left that morning. Somehow she had clawed her way into his brain like an infection and wouldn't leave him alone.

He thought it was because he was worried about her. The storage units had been secluded enough so far, but he knew what was out there waiting. Sure, he had been showing her some combat moves, teaching her how to defend herself and fight off an attacker, but it was all speculation and shadowboxing. He hadn't had a chance yet to give her some supervised field experience to test what she had learned.

But it wasn't just the worry that ate at him. There was something in her eyes that haunted him. It sparked a hint of friction within him that he couldn't really identify. It was disconcerting. The more he tried to figure it out, the more incomprehensible it became, placing Daryl in a state of total vexation.

He'd almost bit it on the road. He had thought he had seen a Cherokee Rose bush growing off the side of the road. He had turned his head for only a moment to gaze at it and nearly lost control of the bike when he'd run over a fault in the road. _Fuck! Gonna crash over a damn flower!_ He was annoyed with himself.

But it wasn't just any flower. It was a symbol of hope and strength that he had once given to Carol in attempt to lift her spirit when Sophia had disappeared. And his effort had indeed built up her hope that he would find Sophia, only to have it completely destroyed when Sophia stumbled out of Hershel's barn. Carol had been devastated; he felt her come apart in his arms as he'd held her. Hell of a lot of good all that hoping and praying had done for her little girl. _Shit._ The guilt threatened to leak out of his eyes. He pushed it all down and drove on through.

The shopping center outside Greenville where the recreational store was located had been crawling with walkers when they arrived. The parking lot was recessed into the hillside keeping them trapped there by a car that had stalled in the entrance. They had to create a distraction to lure them away before they could clear any walkers inside the store.

After they had pushed the car out of the way, Glenn had snuck down and hotwired one of the parked cars. Luckily, the car had a CD inside the player, so he blared the music as he drove away slowly getting a majority of the walkers to follow him. Daryl and Maggie had crept down the embankment after Glenn drove out of the parking lot to pick off the few walkers who trailed behind. Daryl lost his footing halfway down and tumbled the rest of the way. Luckily, his crossbow had survived, but his pride had not remained intact.

"Don't you say a fuckin' word," he threatened Maggie as she stifled a laugh once she realized he wasn't injured.

His face burned hot with rage and embarrassment. Daryl was having a bad day. He tried to pull himself together. They had a job to do. This wasn't the time to lose focus. He paced in front of the entrance just to give himself something to do while they waited for the others. He had to keep himself together. By the time they made it into the store, Daryl wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

They split off into teams of two and pushed through the dimly lit store attacking anything that moved. Daryl rounded the corner and was nearly blind-sided by a walker that he hadn't accounted for when he peered around the aisle. Then, he had tripped over a box that had dropped in his path and would have fallen right into a walker's open mouth if it hadn't been for Rick's quick reaction. He's pretty sure Rick saved his life in that moment by kicking the walker out of his way and then bashing its skull with a bat he had picked up from the sporting goods section. Daryl only had a moment to give Rick a brief nod of thanks before a fresh round of walkers, attracted by the commotion, was upon them.

It was a grueling endeavor, but they eventually managed to clear the store of walkers. When they got to the hunting section, there were only a few guns remaining. They grabbed the two Remington hunting rifles and a pair of Smith & Wesson .40 caliber handguns. There were a couple boxes of shot gun shells left in the display case. It was not what they were hoping to find.

"All that work for this?" Glenn asked unhappily.

"People musta been stockin' up after the news broke," Daryl stated.

Rick's face was brimming with disappointment. He slammed his fist onto the display case. He paused for a moment to let his rage diminish. He would not admit defeat. "Maybe there's a stock room. Glenn, Maggie, see if you can find where that is.'

Glenn and Maggie nodded and started to retreat. Daryl held up his hand to stop them.

"Won't do much good unless you got a way to break into the safe," Daryl pointed out to Rick.

Rick glared at him for bearing the bad news, but Daryl ignored him and walked away searching for other things they could use. He found some arrows for his crossbow and put them in his quiver. Then he went in search of a pair of gloves.

* * *

Carol soaked in the creek enjoying how the coldness of the water soothed the burning ache in her muscles. The solace of a few stolen moments alone was a rare occurrence she took advantage of. Her training with Daryl was rigorous. It was tough, but she liked that it was. Daryl pushed her hard, beyond what she perceived as her limits, and refused to let her give up. He challenged her to move past the obstacles her mind set in motion, refuting her long-held convictions that she wasn't fast or strong enough. The soreness she was left with reminded her that she was stronger than she had believed. The harder she worked, the better she felt about herself. Carol was changing. She was shedding the skin of the meek woman she had been before the world went to hell.

Carol had always been a survivor. But for the first time in her life, she felt like she was more than that. She wasn't just surviving. She was fighting to live. She was starting to feel more sure of herself. She was starting to believe that she was capable. It made her think that anything was possible.

She soaked herself until she couldn't feel her toes and then made her way out of the creek. She dressed quickly and then did some stretching before she turned to walk up the hill towards camp. She heard the snap of a twig before the moaning which let her know she wasn't alone. She turned around and saw a single walker wandering along the opposite side of the creek. She froze. The walker hadn't seen her yet.

She felt a pounding in her ears as her breathing picked up, but she stayed perfectly still, waiting to see the reaction of the walker. The walker, a female, was dressed in a ragged yellow dress with a filthy blue apron. Carol tried not to imagine who the woman had been before. She tried not to consider that she had been someone's daughter. That she had been a mother's pride and joy. She couldn't. She focused only on what remained.

Its skin was dark and rotted, peeling away from the bone in wide, decaying strips. Its hair was in matted cornrows. The putrid stench of it hit Carol from where she was standing. She felt her fear slipping cold and wet down the back of her neck. Slowly, she put her hand into her pocket and felt the knife there. Her fingers grazed the hard rubber grip of the handle. She wrapped her fingers around it and waited. Slowly, it fed her courage. She thought about Daryl's words as she scanned her surroundings. _Find your advantage. Use it._

The walker stumbled forward directionless until it picked up Carol's scent. Instinctually, it turned toward her and started to cross the creek, staggering as it did. The moment the walker tripped on the uneven bed of the creek, Carol sprang into action. She pulled the knife from her pocket and swiftly pressed the lever, releasing the blade. She was on the walker in three long strides. It reached out for her leg as she approached it, but before it could do so, Carol had plunged the knife into the back of its skull. The impact made a squirting sound as rotten brain matter erupted like a blackened geyser spraying her with the rancid goo. Carol recoiled from the surprise of it and tumbled backwards onto a large flat rock. She felt the disgust twist in her stomach as a jolt of pain shot up her spine. She nearly retched.

She took a moment to compose herself before getting onto her feet. She pulled the corpse out of the water and let it fall onto the bank as she caught her breath. Blood was still hammering in her ear. Carol felt at once a mixture of apprehension and exhilaration from her first kill coursing through her veins. She had done it! She had done it gracelessly, but she had done it. She broke out into a large grin._ I can do this_, she thought as she was filled with a new sense of hope.

She dragged the walker up the hill before she signaled to T-Dog to come over. He came jogging towards her when he saw what she was doing.

"Killed myself a walker," she stated proudly.

"I can see that. You okay?" he inquired raising his eyebrows. "You shouldn't go off on your own like that."

"It was just the one. And I managed just fine."

"It appears so," he agreed chuckling to himself as he examined the walker. "Shit, it ain't never had a chance." He shook his head in awe. "Carol P., Walker Slayer."

"You know," she said smiling, "I like the sound of that."

"I'll alert the press," he quipped mirroring her grin. "While you're waitin' for the paparazzi, why don't you help me haul it over to where we burnt the others."

"Okay," she accepted as she bent down to help him lift the corpse and carry it to the pile of scorched bones and branches.

T-Dog pulled a lighter out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Slayer's privilege," he declared respectfully.

Carol took the lighter and set fire to the walker's dress and a few of the branches which lay beneath the corpse. As she watched the fire burn, she felt like she was razing the cage of victimhood. _Never again_, she reflected as the flames burned away thick layers of self-doubt. As the new vow began to flicker within and grow stronger, she pulled the wedding ring from her finger and tossed it into the pyre. She was ready for a fresh start.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Thank you for your reviews! I'm glad you are liking our characters. I've made a few minor corrections after my husband pointed out to me that they have a Suburban, not a Bronco. Silly me! This chapter was a bit awkward and difficult to get out. I started and stopped and deleted and rewrote it, so please let me know what you think. I do hope to take this through S4 and have written some drafts of the later chapters. I hope you will stay with me!

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The clouds gathered low in the sky echoing the gloom that had settled into those who returned from the run. Rick tried to hide his worry by telling everyone that they would still proceed with target practice that afternoon. However, the tension still remained in his eyes and his voice was clipped as he spoke. No one protested.

Carol hadn't understood the reason for the solemnity as it seemed that the run had been a success. As far as she knew, the run had gone fine logistically as they had all returned safely. Among other supplies, they had come back with a few guns and some ammunition.

Then Glenn explained how much of an arduous undertaking it had been for what they were able to acquire. Rick had been hoping to find more ammunition. They needed more. Plus, on the way back to camp, they had run into another herd of about 60 walkers that had blocked the road.

"It was like when cattle is put out to pasture," Maggie reported. "They were all blocking the road."

"They are definitely migrating," Glenn piped in. "Traveling in packs."

"They're huntin'," Daryl agreed.

The group got quiet as they all contemplated what that might mean for them. Rick broke the silence and tried to lighten the mood.

He turned to Carl. "You listen to your mother?"

Carl smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. Kinda."

Daryl snorted. _Yeah, that's about right_.

Rick gave Carl a playfully stern look and tried to hide his smile. "You kinda did? Or you kinda didn't?"

Carl blushed and looked at his mother uncertainly.

"He kinda did this time," she smiled approvingly and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

Rick almost smiled at Lori, but something interfered. His eyes grew distant and he returned his attention to the group. Lori felt slighted, she cast her eyes down in defeat.

It was T-Dog that broke the news as he was informing Rick about how his patrol had gone.

"Another walker stumbled into camp while you were gone. Down by the creek. Carol took it."

All eyes looked in Carol's direction. Her face turned red and she folded into herself slightly.

"Oh my god, Carol," Lori said, giving her a concerned look.

"I'm fine," Carol insisted indignantly when she realized they had their misgivings. "I know you're all surprised. But I'm fine."

Daryl had felt a surge of pride with Carol's assertion. He gave her a half smile and a respectful nod of recognition. But then he remembered he was cross with her so he looked away and tried not to notice that sparkle in her eyes reflecting his esteem. He felt he needed to avoid her for a while. Thinking about her had been a liability today; it was what nearly got him killed. Maybe it was all that extra time he had been spending with her teaching her how to fight. But he couldn't exactly stop doing that. His head started to throb as he thought about his dilemma. He had to get away as soon as possible.

Maggie put her hand on Carol's shoulder in support and gave her a smile. Rick looked at Carol doubtfully, but then gave her a terse nod of acceptance. His eyes filled with trepidation as he looked over at Lori.

"We can't stay here too much longer," Rick declared. "The rain will be here soon. The ice. It will make travelling more dangerous. Especially by motorcycle."

Rick looked at Daryl uneasily.

"I've ridden through worse," Daryl asserted not liking what Rick was implying.

"I don't doubt that," Rick explained. "But we need to look out for each other. The ice and rain aren't the only threat anymore. We need to find shelter for the winter and keep an eye out for those herds. There may be more like them. We need to be prepared."

Carol's confidence had improved greatly, so when Rick suggested that she pick up a gun and finally learn to use it, she didn't shy away from it. After the truck was unloaded, Carol went with Rick and a few others out to the field for target practice.

"Are you sure you're up for this, Carol?" Rick questioned her as he hesitantly handed her a shotgun.

Carol didn't like the tone of his voice, but she nodded and smiled sweetly. "I'm sure," she said while accepting the gun.

She hadn't really been present the last time he'd held target practice. She had been too preoccupied with Sophia's disappearance to follow anything Rick or Shane had said. So Rick instructed her at length on the finer points of gun safety and then showed her how to load and aim the shotgun.

Carol wanted to learn how to shoot, but didn't much care for Rick's pedantic style of instruction. At times he seemed condescending to Carol and talked to her like she was a child. She found herself wishing Daryl were present. He always treated her like an equal even though she was pretty new to fighting. She supposed it was because Rick had taken it upon himself to be their leader and perhaps that was why he adopted such a fatherly approach.

The first time she shot at the tin can, she missed it completely. She thought she had followed Rick's instructions exactly. She squared herself off to the target, refocused her aim, and pulled the trigger once more, but failed to hit the target again. The harder she tried to concentrate, the worse her aim had been. She got frustrated with herself, but didn't give up even though she wanted to. She knew Daryl would be angry with her if she did.

She wondered what was going on with Daryl. He had seemed more aloof than usual. She thought he might have said something to her about the walker that she'd killed. He had given her the impression that he'd approved, but Daryl had barely spoken to Carol after they unloaded the Suburban. He had thrust a down sleeping bag into her arms and curtly told her, "Stay warm." Then, he had disappeared into the woods with his crossbow slung across his shoulder.

Carol wished she felt as comfortable shooting the gun as she did holding the knife. The gun was loud and unwieldy. She was feeling incompetent, and the recoil didn't help. The jolt was a constant reminder that she was failing a big test. She could feel Rick's disapproving eyes on her. She knew he didn't believe she could handle it and she was proving him right. She was annoyed.

The wind began to increase as the sky grew dark. The smell of ozone hung densely in the air as the electrostatic tension accumulated around them.

"Looks like rain," Rick announced the obvious. "We should head back."

Carol felt relieved as she handed the gun back to Rick.

"Keep trying. You'll hit the target eventually," he encouraged her with a sympathetic smile.

The wind was blowing fiercely when they returned to the storage units. The group that stayed behind had been busy preparing the camp for the incoming rain. Glenn and Maggie had put up giant tarps between the storage buildings. They built a fire circle on the cement under the tarp and were boiling water to reconstitute those freeze dried meals they had picked up on the run. But they hadn't needed to because Daryl triumphantly appeared dragging the carcass of a yearling buck.

They had just finished the venison that Carol had cooked when the thunder boomed overhead. When the storm finally broke it was bucketing. Everyone retreated to the refuge of their units. No one was left on watch because visibility was so low. It was freezing cold.

As the thunder rumbled and roared overhead, Carol shimmied herself into the sleeping bag Daryl had brought her feeling eternally grateful for his thoughtfulness as she pulled the hood over her head.

T-Dog laughed when he saw her. "Now that's just adorable. You look like a mummy."

She giggled. "At least I'm a warm mummy."

"Cozy, huh? Well aren't you a special one," he teased. "He bring enough to share?"

Carol gave T-Dog a confused look. "You didn't get anything from the run? I'm sure Rick will-"

"That ain't who I was talkin' 'bout," T-Dog interrupted her.

She raised her brow, "Daryl?"

He gave her a confirmative nod. "Very thoughtful of our lonely hunter."

She nodded her head looking down at the sleeping bag in appreciation as she snuggled deeper into its warmth. "Yes," she agreed. "Daryl is very thoughtful."

"Mmm hmm. He's so damn considerate of all of us," T-Dog stated sarcastically.

"Well, um, he kind of knew I get cold at night," Carol rationalized.

"Oh?" T raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, we, we've talked about it," Carol clarified nervously. She wasn't sure she should share the details of their awkward conversation and how uncomfortable it had made Daryl.

"You've _talked_ about it. I see," T responded. His face held only a hint of a smile. "So he just _happened_ to be thinking about you while he was out."

Carol nodded unaware of what T-Dog was insinuating.

He shook his head at her cluelessness. "Shit, what's a brother gotta do to get some kindness up around here?" he deadpanned.

"You know, if there's something you need you can just make a list," Carol kindly reminded him.

Another thunderclap echoed loudly rattling the doors of the units breaking off the conversation. Carol didn't think she could sleep. A line of worry appeared in her brow as she recalled how afraid Sophia had been of thunder storms as a young child. Her sorrow and guilt churned in her stomach as the storm raged. She could taste the bile as it bubbled up into her throat. She closed her eyes but all she could see was that tin can sitting on the fence, taunting her.

"That's some storm out there," T-Dog commented on the clamoring, pulling her from her thoughts.

Carol looked up and nodded in agreement. She was glad for the company.

"When we were kids, my sisters used to be so afraid of thunderstorms they would hide under the sheets," he said pensively, his eyes grew distant as he recalled the memory.

"Sophia, too," Carol replied, smiling at the recollection.

"How does that help, exactly? I've always wondered that. I mean, it's not like it really makes it any less noisy."

"No, it doesn't," Carol chuckled. "God, what I wouldn't do for a pair of ear plugs right now."

"Oh, those are definitely goin' on the list if I have to suffer another night listenin' to Hershel snore. I swear that man saws logs with a chainsaw when he sleeps."

Neither could control the laughter that burst forth from their lips. And it really was the best medicine Carol knew.

"Since it appears we're not going to get any sleep for now, do you want to play that game of Rummy?" she asked him pulling out the deck of cards.

"As long as you don't cheat," he snickered.

Daryl was feeling cold and miserable trapped inside the concrete room while the sound of the rainfall beat heavily against the roof. He tried to sleep but every time he nodded off, the din of the thunder and the clattering door woke him up. Feeling resigned, he sat up and turned on the lantern. He sharpened all his knives. After he was done sharpening his knives, he cleaned his crossbow. When it was well oiled, he looked through his bag for something else to do. He inspected all his arrows. Most of them were brand new. There was nothing wrong with any of them. He looked around at the room. It seemed to Daryl that the walls had moved a little closer together. He started pacing. He didn't know what to do with himself.

He opened the door and inspected the tarps. They were still in place and allowing the water to fall off on one side. He added a log to the fire and checked on the progress of the jerky.

Daryl heard laughter coming from Carol and T-Dog's room. He wondered what was so entertaining about being trapped in a concrete block. Before his mind had a chance to conjure up any ideas, Rick came out of his unit and joined Daryl by the fire. Daryl actually felt relieved to have the company.

Rick sat quietly for a few minutes collecting his thoughts. "We need to find another truck," he said after awhile. "Something sturdy to keep supplies in. Maybe even carry the bike if necessary. I know how much it means to you, but a lot can happen in weather like this. I appreciate everything you do for us. You're important to this group, Daryl."

The praise still felt awkward to Daryl but he knew Rick was being sincere. "Shit, reckon I ain't gonna mind stayin' dry," he offered.

Rick smiled a little in relief that Daryl was being reasonable. "Didn't think you would."

"I can go when this lets up," he said referring the downpour. "I can take Carol."

Her name had escaped his lips before he realized what he was proposing. Daryl's stomach started twisting in knots. He was impressed that Carol had handled herself, on her own no less, with the walker. And he wanted to see her in action to see how well she'd handle the stress of other conditions. It was a simple enough run. It would be good for her. But he had just spent the entire afternoon in the woods trying not to think about her and in two seconds the frustration he felt about his entire day came flooding back. He held back the groan that nearly sprang from his throat and chewed at the inside of his lip.

Rick tilted his head in surprise. "You think she's ready?" Rick was full of doubt. "I don't know," he said shaking his head. "She couldn't shoot a non-moving target today."

"She's ready," Daryl shot out defensively. He thought that Rick was underestimating her and it rubbed him the wrong way. Guns were only a last resort anyway. Daryl had been training her, he knew what she could do. He knew this was the next step. She needed to try and he realized he wanted to help her do it. That notion in itself seemed the most troublesome to him as it snaked in his belly. "Besides, it'll be easier to keep an eye on her if it's just the two of us."

Rick conceded. He looked around their camp. This was not a way to spend the winter. They needed a house with a proper roof and a fireplace. Some place to hole up for awhile.

* * *

Daryl had pulled off the road after Carol continued to voice her doubts about the run. The cab of the truck suddenly felt too small. He was frustrated and needed to get out. He wasn't sure how he had let her down, but she had lost her trust in him. Even worse, she had lost confidence in herself. And it made him angry and confused.

He looked out across the empty field. The view was expansive. Just being outside in the quiet, fresh air helped to deflate some of the pressure Daryl had felt building up inside.

After a few minutes, Carol slipped out of the truck and slowly approached Daryl. She shouldn't have agreed to go, she realized that now. She would just be a liability.

She had been excited at first about the opportunity to go on a run when Daryl had found her first thing in the morning and asked her to go with him. He told her he thought she was ready for the next phase in her training. But she grew more reluctant after she had spoken to Rick who, although he had agreed let her go, expressed his concern about her lack of preparation and suggested she postpone going out until she'd had more target practice.

"Lots of things can go wrong," he had cautioned her.

"I don't know if I can do this, Daryl. Rick's right, I'm not any good at this." Carol crumpled. Her eyes glumly fell to her muddy boots.

_Rick._ He wondered when she had started trusting him. Daryl didn't like the look on her face. It pulled at him and made his chest tumble into his gut. He was pissed at Rick for making her doubt herself. He had to fix this.

"Hey." He tenderly hooked his fingers around her chin and made her look at him. "You're gonna be just fine," he barked just a little too aggressively. Cringing at his tone, he began to chew on the inside of his lip trying to hold back the angst that was mounting once again in his chest. He couldn't fuck this up and make her more afraid.

She looked back at him and nodded her head, but he could still see the hesitation dulling her eyes. _Fuck!_ It agitated him. The pressure in his chest intensified. He looked away. He couldn't think of what to do. His eyes suddenly caught on something shining in the weeds. When he recognized what it was, he abruptly went to grab the shotgun out of the cab of the truck and then returned, stopping in front of the weeds. He reached down and picked up the empty beer can that had been long ago discarded and put it in his jacket pocket.

"C'mere," he glowered as he purposefully seized her hand and made her follow him, hurriedly, across the field to the fence. He pulled the can out of his pocket and placed it grimly on the post.

Then he turned around and towed her another twenty paces away. "Here," he said resolutely, shoving the gun gently into her hands.

Determined, he put his hands on her shoulders and directed her towards the target.

"Go ahead," he said expectantly waving his hands. "Show me what you can do."

Carol grew nervous as Daryl narrowed his eyes at her and waited with his arms akimbo. She hesitantly drew the gun to her shoulder and took aim.

"Stop," Daryl said firmly, holding up one hand.

She started to lower the gun. He reached out and put his fingers underneath the barrel to stop her.

"Keep it up," he directed her. His eyes steadfastly bore into hers.

It was cold outside, but Carol felt her neck grow warm as Daryl stood there challenging her. She swallowed the lump of fear that had risen in her throat and returned the gun to her shoulder.

"Step back a little with your right leg," he instructed.

Her torso shifted as she stepped her foot back. The gun immediately felt different to Carol, more manageable. She let out a breath as she gazed at the target.

"Lower your head," he touched the back of her head lightly.

Tiny shivers ran down her neck the moment he made contact with her. He'd never stood this close to her while he scrutinized her. Trembling slightly, she moved her head closer to the gun but her eyes wandered apprehensively to where he was standing.

"Keep your eyes on the target," he reminded her sharply.

Her eyes snapped back to the can at the end of the barrel. Her body stiffened. The perspiration rolled down her neck as she felt her heart hammering in her ears. Her fingers tightened around the gun.

"Relax," he soothed her. "Ain't no need to worry. You got this."

He waited until her body softened a little.

"Let your breath come out real slow before you pull the trigger," he guided her.

Carol exhaled gradually keeping her eyes fixed on the target. She felt her fear receding. When the last of her breath was released she pulled the trigger before she lost her nerve. The can violently flew off the post. She released the gun from her shoulder and stared incredulously at the empty spot where the can had been.

"See," Daryl said smugly, the corners of his lips drawing up. "Like I said."

Carol's eyes were still wide. "I hit it," she said in amazement. She nearly laughed at herself.

"Course you did," he exclaimed. The relief expanded in his chest as Carol's eyes brightened. "Dunno what the hell Rick was tellin' ya. But don't listen to 'im. You _can_ do this."

What the hell had Rick said to her? She couldn't remember exactly, but she knew she hadn't felt very capable. It was Daryl that had bolstered her confidence. Without thinking, she turned happily and gave him a hug.

"Thank you," she said squeezing him in delight.

He flinched as her arms wrapped around him. His body went rigid as the scent of her drifted upwards, ensnaring him. His throat became dry.

When Carol realized that she had stepped into Daryl's personal space, she quickly let him go. She tried not to make a big deal about it.

Almost as quickly as they had wrapped around him, her arms were suddenly gone. Daryl felt a chill where her body had been.

He coughed trying to expel the feeling of her pressed against him. "Hell, I ain't done nothin'," he forced the words out. He couldn't look at her.

Carol smiled as she watched Daryl struggle in his uneasiness. It was endearing and almost comical. The fact that he hadn't pushed her away when she hugged him hadn't escaped her. He hadn't run. He hadn't lashed out. They were making progress.

"Well," she drawled. "I couldn't have done it without you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Daryl couldn't recall having a better day since the world had turned to shit. He was hard pressed to even summon one at all that didn't involve him being shitfaced drunk. He'd never really done anything with his life. He'd never gone anywhere. He'd just followed Merle around like a two-bit lap dog, getting drunk, and aimlessly hanging out with Merle's tweaker friends between lousy, dead end jobs. There had never been much in his life to enjoy.

There was a feeling of spacious contentment growing within Daryl's chest. He found himself enjoying driving the truck around. He liked driving Merle's bike, with the feel of the wind and all the open space surrounding him, and the privacy it pretty much ensured him most of the time while they traveled. But he had forgotten how much he missed his truck. It was a beat up piece of shit, but it had been his, bought and paid for. It was one of the few things he ever owned outright. He was sad when it broke down a few hours after they'd left the CDC and he had to leave it behind.

The sky was overcast, but inside the cab, it felt like blue skies to Daryl. He was feeling more at peace since Carol stopped worrying about the run. Even with the few disappointments they'd encountered along the way, Daryl thought it was a good day. He liked that it was just the two of them driving around back-country Georgia. The openness of the road held more appeal for him than being cooped up in a box. And Carol was good company, just like she had been on the Triumph.

Daryl watched Carol as she gazed out the window at the passing scenery. She looked the most relaxed he'd seen her since that night they'd all gotten drunk at the CDC thinking they had found refuge from hell. But it had actually been no more than a pit stop on the mouth of hell itself. They had all been trapped inside that building facing complete annihilation. With only minutes to spare, Carol had saved them all, dutifully plucking that grenade out of her purse like Little Suzy Heroine. She was resourceful and he learned then that he could never underestimate her.

As if she'd felt him staring at her, Carol turned her head to meet Daryl's eyes and gleamed. Her cheerful smile was so infectious that Daryl couldn't help but return a modest grin. Carol giggled in response and her entire face grew vibrant and carefree. A youthful pink glow appeared on her cheeks as the magical sparkle in her eyes enchanted Daryl. Briefly forgetting himself, he chuckled casually at the absurd levity of the moment. He turned his eyes back to the empty road feeling like he had swallowed the infinite sky as a strange sense of easy lightness floated inside him.

They had driven a little farther than they anticipated, but neither of them was complaining about the road trip. By chance they came across a park that was beginning to get overgrown. Not too far from the entrance, they discovered a maintenance yard. It was a small area, but it was fenced in and appeared secure.

They circled around the park maintenance lot a few times before they agreed to go in. There were a few large buildings that looked a little more inviting than the cramped storage units where they were currently staying. Both Daryl and Carol thought they should check it out as a possible new location for their group. There were several green service pickup trucks parked in the lot. It seemed promising after determining the few trucks that they'd come across had been in worse shape than the blue Ford they were currently driving.

"It could be a safe place for Lori to have the baby," Carol said enthusiastically.

"S'possible," Daryl replied. "Before you go gettin' all excited, we gotta check it out first."

They parked away from the entrance and got their gear out. They peered through the fence but couldn't see much from their position. Carol followed a few paces behind Daryl mimicking the way he crept along the outside of the fence. She scanned the area behind him as they moved just like he told her to do.

There weren't any walkers in the yard from what Daryl could tell, but he couldn't see into any of the buildings. It was looking pretty good. The small garage looked deserted. There were several large trucks all with maintenance beds. A few had tool bins along the inside of the truck bed that he thought might have some tools they could use, or in the very least, help keep some of their gear dry.

He crouched down behind some equipment that was on the other side of the fence. Carol did the same but rested her back against the fence and looked out into the brush.

"We gotta get in there and check out those buildings. Make sure they're clear before we inspect those trucks," he said to Carol in a low voice.

As Carol acknowledged Daryl with a nod, she thought she saw movement in the bushes about 30 yards away. She squinted as she tried to focus.

Daryl saw the change on her face. "What is it?" he asked her.

"I think there's something out there," she said. "Can't tell."

Daryl turned around and followed her gaze. "How far?

"Maybe 50 or 60 feet? In those shrubs."

Sure enough, Daryl saw something flickering among the brush, but it was too dense to determine what it was. "Nice spottin'," he praised her. "Though we may not need to worry too much about 'em if we can get over the fence quick enough. Best keep the noise to a minimum."

Carol nodded in agreement.

He turned back towards the maintenance lot and scanned it once again. "I'll go over first. See if I can see any better from up there. You up for some climbin'?"

She smiled. "Sure."

He gave her a nod and then crept a few more feet away before he quickly clambered up the fence. The fence wobbled and clanged softly as he stepped on the chain links. He paused briefly at the top as he deftly swung himself over the top and looked out into the brush. There were nearly a dozen walkers milling about. There may have been more but he couldn't see behind the trees. He climbed down quickly and looked around him before he signaled to Carol.

When she saw Daryl motioning for her to follow, she crept along the fence to where he was squatting on the other side of the fence.

"Walkers," he warned her. "at least a dozen. Maybe more. But they aren't really moving in this direction. C'mon over."

Carol's heart beat a little faster with the confirmation of the walkers. She secured the shotgun across her shoulder and then scrambled up the fence. She was less adept at climbing than Daryl but it didn't stop her. When she finally got to the top she awkwardly slung one leg and then the other over the top. Her pant leg got caught on the links at the top of the fence and she tore a hole in the hem as she pulled her leg. As she paused to unhook herself from the fence, she glanced over at the walkers that hadn't yet noticed them and then made her way down.

Daryl was crouched low behind the front tire of a maintenance truck. Carol made her way over to him.

"Get your knife ready," he told her. "We'll check on this one here first."

He pointed to the building next to them.

"When we go in, it's back to back or keep to my left. You got it?" He looked at her.

Carol's heart was beating fast. She nodded. "Back to back or on your left," she responded.

"Okay, c'mon."

Carol followed Daryl up to the window. He peered inside. There was nothing in the big lobby in front but there was a dark hallway leading through the building.

"Gonna need a flashlight," he told her as he pulled one from his jacket pocket.

Carol awkwardly shifted the gun and the backpack she was wearing onto one shoulder. She unzipped the smaller pouch and pulled out the Maglite that was in there. After she had the pack and gun secured again she gave Daryl a nod.

While Carol was looking through her pack, Daryl tried the door. It was locked. He pulled out his lockpick out of his other pocket and picked the lock. When he was done, he looked at Carol and she nodded at him that she was ready to go in.

The door creaked softly as Daryl opened it slowly. He stepped inside and immediately moved off to the right. Carol entered behind him staying to his left. The room had a stale, musty odor to it. She turned her flashlight on and followed Daryl down the hall.

Halfway down there were two doors on opposite sides of the hallway. The doors were open. Silently, Daryl signaled to Carol that he would check the room to the right and she should check the room on the left.

Carol shined the flashlight as she looked around the corner of the doorway into the small office. She didn't see anything so she stepped inside. The light of the flashlight fell upon two desks with dusty computers sitting on them and piles of paper neatly stacked next to them. On the wall was a box with a couple dozen hooks with keys hanging from them. Carol picked up one of the pieces of paper and realized they were service records for the trucks outside. She went over to the key box and picked up a key marked "#16."

She put the paper back on the desk and went back into the hallway just as Daryl was returning. She held up the key to show him what she found and he nodded back to her. She stuck the key in the pocket of her pants as they continued down the hallway. They came across a pair of bathrooms and a utility closet that were also empty. There were three more rooms at the end of the hallway.

Again, Carol took the room on the left. She just shined the light inside the empty room but didn't enter it. It was another office with a single desk and a few chairs. This one had a couple of first aid kits hanging on the wall.

The room at the end of the hallway had a double door. They opened them at the same time and found a large empty break room. There were a couple of vending machines along one wall and a half dozen unopened five-gallon water bottles.

"We can come back for this stuff later," Daryl stated as he looked around. "Let's go check out that other building first."

The other structure was built like a warehouse. It was a long rectangular shape with a large sliding metal door that was latched with a padlock.

"Can you hand me them bolt cutters?" Daryl asked her.

Carol pulled them out of the top of her pack and handed them to him. He squeezed it over the lock and snapped it. He handed them back to her and waited for her to put them away before he slid the door open.

The door rumbled and rattled noisily as it opened. They shined their flashlights inside. It was full of gardening and landscaping equipment. There was an opened door in the back which led to a greenhouse. When they went back there, they discovered that the plants were all dead.

"Well, that's a shame," Carol said as she inspected the plants.

Daryl grunted.

"With a little TLC, this place could be downright homey," Carol beamed.

He nodded at her. It was somewhat secure, but there was no immediate source of water. Daryl wasn't sure the office building would be much more comfortable than the storage units they were in now. But Carol was excited at the prospect and he didn't want to disappoint her.

"Let's find a truck and load it up," he said heading back outside.

Daryl browsed the selection of trucks available. Carol told him about the service records she found inside and wondered if they'd help them determine which of them had been most recently serviced or if any repairs might be required. It sounded like a good idea to Daryl.

In the end, they decided on a truck with an aluminum tool box straddling the rear of the truck bed and a rear-hinged dump insert. It was key #13.

"I hope you're not superstitious," Carol teased as she took the key off the hook.

"Pfft," Daryl dismissed.

When they broke open the vending machines Carol swore that Daryl was enjoying himself while he smashed them up. There was a touch of something boyishly mischievous alight in his face. She couldn't help but grin as she watched him.

When Daryl noticed her grinning at him he froze. "What?" he inquired bearishly.

"You're cute when you're in your zone," she joked.

"Ain't nothin' cute about me," he scowled and averted his eyes.

"You seem awfully enthralled in destroying the hell outta that thing," she quipped. "Admit it, Daryl, you're having fun."

He studied her face and saw the impish glint in her eye goading him. Damned if he was.

"So what if I was." He was still guarded, but Carol could tell Daryl was letting the walls down a little.

"It's okay. You're allowed to," she encouraged him. She wanted him to know that whatever he was feeling was perfectly acceptable.

She reached for the fence pole he was holding in his hand. "May I?" Her eyes playfully beseeched him.

He released the pole from his grip and watched her swing it into the side of the machine. Shards of plastic exploded around them with a loud crash. She took another couple of swings and then stood there smugly, admiring her handiwork.

"Yes, clearly satisfying," she smirked as she handed Daryl back the post. "I can see why you like it." Her eyes danced devilishly as she grinned.

He stood there in shock with his mouth agape unable to comprehend what had just happened. Carol, nonchalantly, started gathering the snacks and drinks into her bag. Daryl's brain finally came back online.

"What the hell was that?" he croaked. His eyes narrowed down to slits as he regarded her with curiosity.

"What?" she asked innocently. When she saw the serious look on Daryl's face she couldn't help herself. "Why should you get to have all the fun?" The corners of her mouth radiated upwards.

Daryl was tense, trying to understand what was happening. But the moment she smiled at him, something hard inside his chest softened a little. He relaxed, finally grasping that she was joking around.

"I don't like to share," he pushed back.

"Well, you should start. Sharing means caring, Daryl," she winked. The sparkle in her eye was glowing fiendishly.

"Stop," he said and went to remove the first aid kits from the wall in the other room.

* * *

They put everything inside the truck bed. Daryl found a few tools he thought might come in handy and put them in the toolbox. While he was loading them into the truck, he noticed a gas pump by a small shed near the office building.

"Looks like we might get to fill up before we leave," he told Carol nodding in the direction of the pump. "I'll go check it out. Start 'er up and meet me over there?"

"Okay," Carol agreed and climbed in the cab.

Daryl was inspecting the pump when she pulled up alongside it and switched off the engine. She reached down and pulled the release valve to open the fuel door.

"It's got one of those security systems on it," he notified her as she exited the truck and walked over to him. "Needs an access card to let the gas flow. Didn't see any inside, did you?"

"I don't recall seeing any," she told him. "I'll check the glove box."

She walked over to the passenger door and opened it. The glove box was empty.

"There's nothing in here either," she said. "I can go back inside and check."

"Don't bother," Daryl stopped her. "I'm gonna try to hotwire it."

He unhooked the gas handle from the pump and inserted it into the car. "C'mere and hold the lever, will ya?"

Carol moved to hold the lever while Daryl broke open the panel box on the pump. When he removed the cover there were a bunch of wires inside. He wasn't sure what he was looking at but he had some rudimentary experience in electrical wiring on a construction job he once worked.

He crossed a couple of wires on the circuit board. "Anything?" he asked her.

"Not yet," she reported.

He tried another pairing, holding the wires carefully in place.

"Oh," Carol said startled. "Something's happening." Her voice took on an excited tone. She smiled as the gas came out.

Daryl grinned, pleased with himself, as the tank filled. When it was full the lever clicked off. Daryl motioned with his head towards the empty red gas can sitting on the ground among the weeds next to the building.

"Might as well fill that, too, while we're at it," he indicated.

"Good call," she agreed.

She retrieved the can and untwisted the lid. She stuck the nozzle in the top and pulled the lever again. Unexpectedly, the hose ruptured from the nozzle spraying gas everywhere. The hose began to flail, drenching them with gasoline, and forming a large puddle around them.

"Shit!" Daryl cried as he watched the eruption. He tried desperately to uncross the wires when suddenly, sparks shot out of the control box.

"Oh, shit!" Daryl cursed as the box started arcing sending sparks everywhere. "Get in the truck! Get outta here!"

She hesitated for Daryl. Her eyes were desperate and afraid.

"I said get the hell out!" he called to her. "If I let this box go, it's gonna explode!"

Carol bit her lip, but did as Daryl told her. She ran to the driver's seat and started the truck. She immediately shifted into gear and hit the accelerator with a lead foot. She drove right through the gate. The fence door flew off its hinges.

"Fuck!" He cursed himself again. Daryl waited until the truck was out of sight and then dropped the box as far from the puddle of gas as he could. He ran like hell.

As it hit the ground, sparks arced out of the box into the large puddle instantly igniting the gasoline. A few seconds later the pump exploded ripping out part of the fence and the wall of the office building, setting it ablaze. The impact of the explosion blew Daryl to the ground. He felt something hot slice through the back of his leg.

The explosion attracted the walkers who made their way to the gaping hole in the fence. Stunned, it took Daryl a moment to understand what was happening. He sat up feeling the searing pain in his calf. The flames were hypnotic, perpetuating his daze. The smell of gasoline burned in his nose. He heard the sound of something thumping in his ears. Then, he saw the rotten corpses staggering towards him. It felt like he was watching a horror movie on one of those large, flat screen TVs he had seen at Merle's dealer's house. This couldn't really be happening. Then the stench hit him. It smelled rank, like a large bonfire that someone had shoved a rotting carcass on to barbeque. All at once Daryl became aware that this wasn't a movie. It was much worse: This was his ghastly reality.

Coming to his senses, he shot the walker with the crossbow that was tottering about ten feet in front of him. He was loading the second arrow when Carol drove the truck up. It lurched to a halt as she leaped out the truck, readying her knife immediately. She ran to where Daryl was scrambling to stand up. She stabbed the second walker through the eye socket as it was lunging for Daryl and pushed it aside.

"Are you alright?" she worried, trying not to gag from the noxious odors that were swarming around them.

"I'm fine," he called to her as he shot the second bolt. "C'mon. Let's get outta here before more of 'em come." He limped over to where the walkers had fallen and snatched up his arrows out of the walker's skulls. He slammed his crossbow into another walker, knocking it over.

They dashed to the truck. As Carol drove away, Daryl looked back at the wreckage. Through the smoke he saw them. Dozens of walkers drawn by the blast and the flickering flames were stumbling through the inferno. It was supposed to be a simple run and he'd gone and fucked it up. He watched their newfound hope burn up in the flames.

* * *

Carol had driven them to safety a few miles away before she stopped the truck and turned off the engine. "Let me get a look at that leg, Daryl."

"It's fine," he said gruffly. His mood had soured. The walls were up.

"Well, I'm gonna take a look at it anyway," she asserted, smiling at him. The worry creased at the corners of her eyes.

He sighed realizing there was no point in arguing with her. She had her mind set on it. He needed to pick his battles more carefully.

"Fine," he capitulated huskily.

She exited the truck and walked over to the passenger side and opened the door. The lower part of his pant leg was covered in blood. She looked at him seeking his permission before she lifted it up to inspect the wound. There was a piece of metal embedded in the muscle.

"There's something there. I don't want to pull it out yet. We're gonna have to have Hershel take a look at it when we get back." Her eyes were darker and full of concern.

"I fucked it up," he grumbled to her apologetically.

"No, you didn't," she allayed. "Sometimes things just go wrong."

He held her gaze warily without faltering until he sensed her sincerity. She wasn't blaming him in the least, but he felt he had let her down all the same.

"We needed that place."

The pain in his voice pierced her heart. "So, we'll find another." She looked at him with nothing but reverence. She wouldn't let him take responsibility for what had happened.

Carol rolled up his pant leg and began to clean the wound on Daryl's leg as best she could. She stabilized the shard with some gauze. Then she tore off the ripped hem from her pants and wrapped the material tightly around the wound.

Daryl watched her tend to his leg like a war nurse. She was gentle and unhurried. She was covered in a revolting mixture of sweat, gasoline, and walker goo. Yet, she was wholly unfazed as she cared for him. This was same woman who only hours ago believed herself to be utterly incompetent. Here she was radiating complete composure. She was amazing. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"What?" she asked as she caught him staring.

"You're quite a sight," Daryl remarked lightly.

She inspected herself and then glanced at Daryl who was smirking at her. "Daryl Dixon, are you flirting with me?" she teased.

Daryl ruffled and grew flustered. "Pfft," he said dismissively and then turned away before she could see the hue of his cheeks burn red.

Maybe he was.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** Your reviews and comments are so lovely. Thank you for feeding me encouragement! I'm so glad you are liking the story. Daryl and Carol are taking me on a journey. I love writing for them. I will update as life and the muse will allow. I hope you stick around!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

When they got back to the storage units, Carol immediately went to find Hershel to have him look at Daryl's injured leg before he could have a chance to protest. Beth and Maggie brought supplies and a bucket of water into Daryl's room before quickly retreating.

Carol observed carefully as Hershel cleaned the area, removed the metal shard and stopped the bleeding. He may have been a veterinarian, but Hershel was the only one of them with any medical training. He had saved Carl's life. Carol had picked up a few things from her life with Ed out of necessity, but she knew it wasn't enough. She knew it was important for her to learn more than just fighting skills to help her survive. There was no guarantee that any of them would stay alive with the way the world was now. Every bit of knowledge helped.

"You're gonna need a few stitches," Hershel informed him. "And we don't have any anesthetic to numb the pain."

"S'fine," Daryl growled impatiently. He hated the fuss they were making over him. "Just get on with it."

Hershel searched through the supplies they had. "Carol, is there any alcohol left?"

"Just the swabs in the kits we grabbed," she replied nervously.

"No, it has to penetrate the wound."

"I'll go with one of the others to get some," Carol offered and turned to leave.

"No," Daryl argued. He grabbed her lightly by the wrist to stop her. He didn't like the idea of her going out again, and certainly not for his sake.

She turned back and saw the concern looming darkly in his eyes. "Check the bike," he told her reluctantly. "There's some in the bag."

She nodded and he let go of her. He watched her walk away. A few minutes later she reappeared with the pint of whiskey. It was now half full.

"Have you been drinking and driving?" she teased, giving him a small disapproving pout.

"Ain't like that," he said defensively. He had indeed thought about drowning the bottle on a couple of occasions, but never did. The last thing he wanted was to be was drunk if shit hit the fan. He felt he owed her an explanation. "Only thing that gets rid of the taste o' gas."

Hershel took the bottle as Carol handed it to him and poured a small amount onto Daryl's wound. He hissed at the sting.

"I'm sure I don't have to remind you," Hershel stated plainly, "that this is gonna hurt like hell. But try not to move."

He handed Daryl back the whiskey bottle. Daryl grimaced while Hershel stitched him up. He considered taking a swig or two, but thought better of it.

"Try not to get this wet for at least a day or two," he advised Daryl when he had finished. "I'm also supposed to tell you to stay off your leg and keep it elevated to reduce the swelling. But I also know you're as stubborn as a mule, so just take it easy." He gave Daryl a warm, easy smile.

Carol snorted a laugh as Hershel gathered up the medical supplies and left. Daryl glared at her. She cleared her throat.

"Sorry. I'll let you get cleaned up. I'm due for a bath myself." She turned to leave.

"Hey," he called to her softly.

Carol paused in the doorway and glanced at him.

"You did good today," he commended her.

She flashed him a grateful smile and left without a word. She went to her unit to get a change of clothes and then headed down to the creek to clean herself up.

* * *

"Walkers!" Glenn suddenly shouted alerting the group. "Walkers!"

"Where? How many?" Rick came running as Glenn was coming down off the roof.

"From the west. About a quarter mile. They just came out of the fog. At least fifty of them."

Rick turned to address T-Dog, Beth, and Hershel who had started to gather. "Take what you can and head for the cars."

Daryl came out of his unit dressed in a fresh shirt. His bag and crossbow were hanging from each shoulder. "What's the plan?" he asked Rick as he started gathering up the dried deer jerky and stuffing it into a bag.

"They're coming from the west. That only gives us one choice," Rick stated as he turned to help Lori and Carl quickly gather supplies.

Daryl stopped T-Dog on his way to the truck. "Carol come back from the creek yet?"

"Aw, shit. No," T responded with a mix of concern and frustration in his voice. "I told her not to go down there alone."

"Damn it!" he blew out, practically tearing out his hair as he ran his free hand through it.

There was no time to waste. He had to find her quickly.

"I'll go get her. Here," Daryl said, quickly passing T-Dog the jerky. "Might be all we get for dinner. Grab her bag! We'll catch up."

Daryl turned and ran across the field calling her name.

Carol quickly lifted her clean head out of the water. She thought she heard someone screaming. When she realized she had left her knife on the rock with her clothes, she quickly climbed out of the creek. She listened intently as she scrambled put on her clean pants and socks and stuffed her feet hastily into her boots. She slid her knife back in her pocket.

"Carol!" She distinctly heard Daryl's desperate voice.

"Daryl!" she answered back loudly. She wanted him to hear her and know she was okay. Her fingers fumbled anxiously as she tried to get her shirt on. It was only then that she heard the walkers approaching.

She looked up and saw a half dozen walkers stumbling towards her. She froze. Her mind flashed intrusively to Sophia. Her helpless Sophia. She had been left, alone and scared, in a creek. The grief stabbed her in the belly like a fatal blow. Her breath left her painfully.

"Carol!" Daryl's voice rang out from the top of the hill like an alarm.

His voice pulled her back into her body with a gasp. She faced the brutal reality of the moment with a cold, wet fear as water from the creek dripped down her face and neck. "Daryl, there's walkers!" she warned.

Quickly, she pulled the shirt over her head.

"I know, c'mon! We gotta go!" Daryl hollered.

He watched her clamber up the hill. When she got close to the top he reached for her hand to help her up the rest of the way. "C'mon!" he urgently shouted as he yanked her up. "What the hell you doin' down here alone!" His dismay had hardened on his face. He was infuriated by her carelessness.

There was no time for her to answer as they took off running across the field. The horde was closing in on the lot. When they saw Daryl and Carol, several of them broke off and were quickly stumbling towards them. Carol was starting to lag behind. The others were already piling into the cars and pulling away from the lot. They were not going to make it to the bike in time.

Rick called out to Daryl from the Suburban. "We'll try to draw them away! Meet up at that gas station on 27!"

Rick started to honk the horn, drawing the attention of the walkers. Daryl turned and headed between the units. He signaled Carol to follow him. They weaved between the buildings and crept up behind the office building. They were both breathing hard as they stopped for a moment and leaned their backs against the building. They could hear the sound of the walkers moaning and shuffling past on the road chasing the honking of the car horn.

"Stay here," Daryl panted angrily. His stormy eyes drilled into her.

Carol knew he was annoyed with her. She had been foolish to go off on her own. The others had to leave and now they were trapped. He had stayed behind to retrieve her. A chill went down her spine as water from her wet head dripped down her neck. She hadn't even had enough sense to grab a sweater!

Carol nodded her response as Daryl snuck over to the ladder that was still resting against the unit building. He picked it up and carefully placed it against the office building.

"I'm gonna take a peek," he told her keeping his voice quiet.

Daryl climbed stealthily up the ladder. He stayed low as he navigated the rooftop. When he got to the edge he peered out. Most of the walkers had followed the cars down the road, but there were still a little more than a dozen near the edge of the field and in the parking lot. Daryl counted his bolts. _Nine._

"Shit," he said to himself.

Had he been with T-Dog or Rick or Glenn, he would have picked off what he could with the crossbow and taken the rest by hand. But he didn't want to risk it with Carol, not that he thought she couldn't fight, but because he was more concerned about her safety. The risk was unnecessary. He was being cautious for her sake. The thought was foreign to him, he realized. It made him more frustrated at the situation. He became antsy.

He climbed back down to Carol. "There's still too many. Only got nine arrows. Need another distraction that won't bring the rest back."

"Should we wait them out? Maybe they'll leave on their own."

"That'll take too long," he said impatiently. "Ain't no guarantee they'll go neither."

It would be safer to wait. But Daryl worried that if they didn't catch up soon, Rick would give up and figure them lost. He didn't want to be left behind. _Like Merle. Like Andrea._

"We don't know how long Rick an' them'll wait before they cut their losses. We gotta drive the long way 'round as it is."

It was late in the afternoon. Carol doubted that the others would leave the safety of the gas station tonight if they didn't have to. She doubted that they would even contemplate leaving Daryl behind. Rick relied heavily on him. He had become too important. But she was not going to argue with Daryl after what he'd done for her. She knew she was to blame for getting them into this situation and she desperately wanted to help get them out of it. She remorsefully chewed on her lip as she considered a plan. She stared down the row of buildings to the patio table at the end and got a flash of inspiration.

"We can draw them away from the bike. Rattle the doors. Set fire to the table." Carol suggested pointing towards it.

Daryl mulled over her idea. His eyes lightened slightly as he concluded it was a good plan. "I'll do it. You wait up on the roof," he told her sternly. "We can sneak down the other side."

Carol didn't argue. She felt guilty enough putting Daryl in this predicament. It was twisting knots in her stomach as she worried about him. She crept up to the roof and waited for him, crouched at the far edge. A few minutes later she heard Daryl banging loudly on the unit doors. She watched the walkers in the lot as they moved off towards the source of the clatter. Shortly afterwards, Daryl scaled the roof and swiftly drew up the ladder. Carol held up her hand to him to urge caution. After the last of the walkers disappeared around the corner, she waved him over.

Daryl lowered the ladder down quietly and set it against the front of the building. Then he scurried down and held the ladder steady for Carol as she descended. They hurried to the bike and Daryl fixed his crossbow to the back of it. Carol climbed on immediately afterwards. As soon as the bike roared to life, the walkers turned back around towards them. Daryl kicked up the stand and plopped back onto the seat. Carol clung to him as he quickly steered the bike out of the lot.

They cruised for a good half hour before they finally hit the turnoff for the county road. He could feel Carol shivering behind him and he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled over and got off the bike. She followed and stretched her stiff legs. A darkness had set into her features. When he saw how blue her lips were, all the remaining anger he felt towards her evaporated.

"Jesus," he gasped in horror.

He pulled out his poncho and handed it to her. "Here, put this on."

She complied appreciatively, but her eyes remained vacant. His fingers grazed her icy ones as she reached for it sending chills up his arm. "Shit, you're freezin'." His eyebrows knitted together with concern.

He watched as she pulled the poncho over her head and rubbed her arms to warm herself. The mere sight of her tugged at the tough band around his heart. He wrestled with himself as he watched her suffer. Cautiously, he drew her closer. "C'mere," he said gently as he enfolded her in his warmth.

Carol felt numb. She had been in a daze of brooding thoughts and hadn't quite realized how cold she'd become. The guilt had spread heavily into every crevice of her mind during the trip. She had placed them both at risk with her carelessness. Somewhat disoriented, she stiffened as she felt Daryl's awkward arms suddenly enclose her.

The fresh scent of her penetrated him and oozed through all the chinks in his armor. The effect was synchronous; it both soothed and triggered him. Opposing internal forces began to spin and twist within him. The speed of his heartbeat quickened to an uncomfortable rhythm as he felt the heat of her proximity burning through his skin. Diverting his attention from his discomfort, he began to vigorously rub his hands up and down her back and arms.

She wasn't sure what to think as the friction from Daryl's movement gradually thawed her. She was grateful for the heat as she felt her flesh grow warmer, but with it also came the agony. Coiled deep within, a confined need for comfort lay aching in her core. It was where that painful affliction lived, her loss, which was never alleviated and was always threatening to obliterate her precarious resolve. For the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to breathe in the musky security of Daryl's presence. Unconsciously, she relaxed into his protective embrace as she felt the imminence of a painful sob looming in her chest.

Daryl felt her respond pliantly to his touch. As she sank into him his blood thrummed in his ears. From the base of his spine, a sinuous current began to surge upwards. He felt a tidal wave of sensation forcefully churning within, flooding him with a heated chaos. His throat tightened as all the nerve endings in his body seemed to come alive at once. The deluge of sensations threatened to overwhelm him. It was too much. He released Carol almost immediately, pushing her away as he averted his eyes. The thrum in his ears continued at a feverish cadence. He floundered, searching through his bag for his gloves. He cleared his throat to discharge the energy still whirling inside him.

"Here, these'll help." The words barely escaped from the torrential chaos within him.

Dewy-eyed, she swallowed the sob as she was thrust aside. She drew in a breath to create some semblance of poise. She couldn't fall apart now. Daryl needed her to be strong. She tightened her resolve. She took the gloves from him, prudently avoiding his fingers, and smiled faintly as she put them on.

Something indeterminate had skulked onto her face, spiraling him deeper into his emotional vortex. He took a deep breath to calm the frenetic energy coursing through him.

"Why didn't you say somethin'?" he fretted gravely, although he sensed he already knew the answer. The woman never seemed to take care of herself.

"We had to get out of there." Her eyes shot down to her boots and her shoulders slunk forward as she recalled the dangerous situation she put him in.

"I woulda pulled over sooner," he declared openly.

"You've already done so much. Didn't feel right. Anyway, it's not important."

Her words hit at the raw spots in his chest and festered. "Hell it ain't," he disputed gruffly. The sensory memory of her trembling, delicate form yielding to his arms simmered low in his gut, chafing him.

He saw her slink away into the poncho. The guilt twisted him into knots and he regretted his tone. "Warmer?" he asked more gently.

She nodded barely meeting his eyes. This was no good. He bit at the frayed skin by his fingernail trying to figure out what to do. They were losing light and he had no clue how to restore her smile. He felt completely inadequate. He thought the best he could do was bring her back safely to the others.

"C'mon then," he said swinging his leg over the bike and starting it.

The bike rumbled as Carol climbed on meekly. Daryl swore that her arms wrapped less tightly around him and a knot of guilt burned inside his stomach. Grudgingly, he turned back onto the county road and headed towards the gas station.

* * *

They arrived shortly after sunset. Rick and Lori emerged with smiles as they met their friends. Lori pulled Carol into a tight embrace the moment she got off the bike.

"I was so worried," she sighed, "when I saw you on the field."

"You shouldn't have," Carol replied hugging the woman tightly. "We're fine."

She wasn't really but didn't think it would be appropriate to share. She glanced at Daryl who was checking in with Rick. Rick had his hand resting on Daryl's shoulder.

"Glad you made it out okay," Rick said.

"Thanks for drawin' those walkers away," Daryl offered. "It helped."

Daryl met Carol's gaze and she smiled weakly before averting her gaze. She turned and followed Lori into the small convenience store. The shelves had been picked over already from the last time they had stopped here. The others all stood and opened their arms to her, welcoming her back. She was grateful for their support. T-Dog had squeezed her tightly and lifted her off the ground, twirling her slightly as he laughed. The sudden motion had Carol blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl.

"I was hoping I'd see you again, Slayer," he burbled as he swung her around.

The nickname made her smile. T's arms were strong and steady. Carol felt her dark thoughts slipping back to the corners of her mind as he squeezed her. When T finally stopped spinning her, he put her down gently and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Daryl watched the scene unfold with a mix of emotions. He saw the features of Carol's face brighten and the corners of his lips twitched in satisfaction, but he felt the jagged barb of his own inadequacy digging in his gut.

The others bustled about him wanting to shake his hand and pat him on the back. It hadn't been that long since they had seen each other. He didn't understand all the fuss.

T-Dog pulled Carol over to a corner where she was shocked to see her backpack and sleeping bag waiting for her.

"You grabbed my stuff!" she said in a state of surprise.

"What? He didn't tell you?" T-Dog questioned her.

She shook her head.

"He told me to grab it when he went to get you at the creek. Didn't think there would be time for you to grab it."

"There wasn't."

She turned to locate Daryl in the room. Glenn and Maggie were standing around him, welcoming him back. But his eyes were fixed on her. The moment she saw him he quickly turned away and said something to Glenn she couldn't hear.

Later, when they were all sitting together, passing around the bag of deer jerky and discussing their plans for tomorrow, Carol realized her exhaustion. She excused herself from the circle and retreated to the far corner where T had placed her things.

A short while later, Daryl wandered over to where she was preparing to bed down for the night. He lifted his eyebrow at her as she sat down on the sleeping bag. "Everything okay?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Just tired."

He eyed her skeptically and sat down next to her with his back against a cooler door. He sensed there was more to it.

"I never got a chance to thank you. For what you did for me today. The gun. The run. The creek. My bag. All of it."

He shrugged. "Weren't hardly nothin'."

"It was a lot," she contended. "It was helpful."

She scanned his eyes. There was something in them that made her feel vulnerable. She felt the ache in the center of her body rupture, sending tiny fissures of searing grief splintering upwards. She looked down as the insidious grief slashed at her heart.

"It was my fault for being down at the creek alone. You could have just left me."

Her words stung him. Is that what she thought of him? Did she really think he would do that? When they left the farm, he had wanted to go back for Andrea, but Rick wouldn't let him. She could have been alive for all they knew. The guilt and pain of not knowing what happened to her still kept him awake some nights.

His eyes darkened. "Ain't an option," he growled. "Ain't leavin' no one behind."

Carol's brow creased with worry. She reached for his arm without thinking. He shrugged her off reflexively.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that you would. I just-" she faltered.

She hadn't meant to hurt him. The words were simply _ineffectual_. She felt toxic. She wanted to reassure him but she was falling short.

She stared off distantly before continuing. "Just thank you."

The burning tightness in her chest was overwhelming, tearing her insides out. She couldn't breathe. She wanted air. She wanted to escape before she came apart.

Daryl saw the darkness fall across her eyes once again. She stood to leave. He followed, capturing her elbow before she could slip away. He gently tugged it until she turned around. He glared at her.

"Spill it," he demanded.

"I don't know what you mean," she said confused.

"Bullshit," he argued with her trying to temper his frustration. "Somethin's eatin' at ya. Has been since we left the storage units."

She felt exposed and raw. She looked down, hiding her shame. "It's nothing."

He snorted and shook his head. "It clearly ain't."

"There are enough problems. I just don't want to burden anyone."

"Thought we've been through this already" he sighed. He was becoming exasperated. He kept trying to reach her, but she kept fleeing. He wanted to seize her by the arms and tether her to the moment. He took another calming breath. "You ain't no burden."

She realized he was trying to be supportive. He wanted to hear what was troubling her, but she was pushing him away. She remained motionless as she confronted her feelings. "Sometimes it just feels like too much."

Daryl listened intently.

"There's not a day goes by that I don't think about her."

_Sophia._ Daryl felt his heart wrench. She wasn't even his kid, but the loss of her had hurt all the same. He couldn't even imagine what Carol was going through.

"I put you in danger today. Just like I did to her." Her eyes burned and pooled with tears as she thought about Sophia alone at that creek. "I don't think I could have ever forgiven myself if something happened to you because I was so- _stupid_."

Her tears seared damp trails as they rolled down her cheeks. She was losing her stringent resolve and was starting to crumble.

"Hey," he said firmly as he watched her face begin to quiver. "First off, you _ain't_ stupid. Shit, coulda been anyone o' us gotten stuck. S'your idea that got us out o' that mess, yeah?"

She supposed it was. She hadn't thought of that.

"Second, nothin' happened. All that worryin'? You gotta quit that."

The words felt hollow even as he said them. He said it like it was an easy thing to do. He realized he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

He saw that the pain quivering on her face was akin to his own that twisted in his gut. In a flash, he recognized what her worrying had meant. She cared what happened to him. They were more alike than he had first considered. The tight band in his chest loosened slightly and softened the features on his face.

He understood then. He could never take away her pain. It was a burden she would carry forever. He couldn't fix it for her but he could try to help lighten the load. Afterall, he carried it, too.

"I'm real sorry 'bout Sophia," he said tenderly. "I miss her, too."

His genuine confession was all it took to raze the bulwark of her resolve. Carol released a deep, guttural sob that shook her entire body. Without hesitation, he put his arms around her and eased her burden. He felt her let go into his embrace as she trembled and wept. Soon, his own eyes were sodden as they bore their grief together.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Sorry for the delay. I haven't had much time to write and the story wants to unfold in its own time. What can I say, slow burn is... slow. Please continue to share your reviews! I love hearing what you think. It keeps me going. -jb

* * *

**Chapter 10**

It was several weeks later when something finally clicked into place for the survivors. There was a constant rhythm to their movement from place to place combined with a general lack of privacy and the necessary but grueling supply runs which led to the development of a fundamental nonverbal communication system among the group members. They learned to read the subtle expressions on each other's faces and to anticipate moods. Because of their constant close proximity, they tried to give each other as much space as possible. They became close because they depended on each other. On runs, they used simple hand gestures and whistles to signal each other while drawing the least amount of attention to themselves. They went out in rotating teams to scout and scavenge and they kept reunification plans in the event of unexpected separations. Daryl taught them how to build simple snares to trap animals and they set them whenever they stopped overnight.

Everyone kept a running mental list of necessities. These were the first items they searched for when they entered a new location. They kept most items stored in airtight plastic containers in the pickup alongside the mounted motorcycle which Daryl stopped riding during the winter storms. Each of them had a bag packed with their own personal items, small tools, and daily necessities such as emergency food and water. It was carried with them wherever they went. They started to keep track of the many herds they encountered on a map so they could try to avoid them as much as possible. It was safer to plan a strategic route rather than travel blindly through hostile territory. They also recorded the places they had scavenged so they could remember where they'd been.

Their bonds were like any tightly knit family. They ribbed each other, but thanked each other. They argued and disagreed, got on each other's nerves and in each other's faces from time to time, but when things got dangerous, they looked out for each other. They had each other's backs. They had made a pact with each other, that if they got bit or mortally wounded, another would prevent them from coming back as one of those hungry, empty corpses. They tended each other's wounds, the physical and the emotional ones. They endured each other's nightmares without complaint, held on through the tears, and celebrated each victory, however small. The respect they gave one another provided the strength they needed to get through another toiling day.

And still, the stress of their living conditions and daily responsibilities got to all of them at one time or another. They were sleep deprived and sometimes hungry. Everyone participated in night watch and driving shifts, even Carl to some extent and Lori when she was feeling up for it. Lori had given up trying to keep Carl sheltered. It was impossible to have a normal childhood given their adverse conditions and she was too tired to fight anymore. But she quietly worried. Carl had overheard her arguing with Rick one night and learned more about the origins of his future sibling than any child should have to learn. He didn't speak to her for a week. Rick was the one who gave orders, so only his opinion mattered to Carl anymore it seemed to her.

Yet, Carl still needed his mother sometimes, because he was still young in many regards. She was grateful for these moments, even though they seemed more and more infrequent. He came beaming to her one day shortly after he'd started talking to her again and bragged about his first walker kill since he'd put Shane down. He'd been pleased with himself as if he'd gotten the lead part in the school play. And so Lori treated it as if that were the case. She praised him. She praised all his firsts. She was proud of him even if he was becoming a man too soon. He was growing more independent, like a normal teenager in many regards. She saw Rick still trying to parent him, harping on all the teaching points as they arose and giving Carl more responsibilities when he earned them. She loved him for that. She still loved him even though she knew their marriage had fallen apart.

Lori knew Rick still loved her and that he still worried about her, but he remained estranged. He rarely spoke to her with any affection these days. She didn't blame him, she knew what she had done, and she bore the guilt of her part in driving the wedge between Rick and Shane. Rick never touched her or provided her with any physical comfort, although he did his best to see that she was taken care of and as comfortable as possible. He made sure she ate; he often gave her half his share and sometimes he even went without. He said he'd take care of her and the baby and he was never one to go back on his word.

Rick barricaded himself behind his own guilt about what he had done to Shane, even though he was certain that because of Shane's actions he had been left with no choice. He would protect his family at any cost. Shane had been his best friend as well as his partner, and he had gotten Lori and Carl safely out of town while Rick was still lying in a coma. He felt he owed Shane and planned to do right by the baby regardless of its biological paternity. Rick had done the math and knew the baby couldn't be his, but he never let on otherwise. The baby was innocent after all.

Lori was scared and felt more alone than she ever had, but she developed some humility. She worked as hard as Rick would allow her to. She mostly cleaned up after everyone. She washed clothes when they could and all their cooking implements. She wasn't the best cook, so she only prepared meals when the others were unavailable to do so. No one really complained about her cooking, they ate whatever was given to them regardless of how tasteless or disgusting it was. They needed the calories. They were all losing weight except for Lori, but she was still just bones and a tiny baby bump she wore like a scarlet letter.

As the days went on, she became close to Carol. She was the only one who knew what it was like to carry a child. She became her confidant. She was understanding and helped with Carl when he wouldn't mind her. Carol helped to alleviate her fears which were mounting every day. She encouraged her to laugh more and focus on the positive things. Lori admired her strength. She knew Carol had lost so much, and still she persevered. Carol often came by at the end of the day to massage her lower back. She tried to find foods that Lori was craving. Sometimes she shared the exciting details about a run she had been on. She would tell Lori stories about the things that she saw that reminded her of the time before. Carol was a comfort. She was a gift.

In return, Lori's pregnancy, while certainly a detriment in their current circumstances, provided a sense of hope to Carol. It made her think about the balance of nature and the struggle for life. Even though life as they knew it had ceased to be, it adapted and continued on. The baby gave her hope for a brighter future and for the survival of mankind.

Winter had arrived bearing teeth. The icy rains and high winds had made travel more precarious. The storms greatly decreased visibility so they traveled at slower speeds. Daryl rode with T-Dog and Carol in the pickup. They were on the road for several hours every day and it was the only vehicle he could tolerate being in for extended periods of time. Carol thought they made a well-balanced traveling team. T-Dog's cheerful storytelling balanced out Daryl's sullen muteness. There was a good mix of comfortable silence and conversation. But Carol also sensed a growing tension simmering between Daryl and T-Dog. On more than one occasion she had caught Daryl glowering at T-Dog, but she'd understood Daryl's grumpiness as being related to his lack of solitude so she never brought attention to it.

Christmas had come and gone without a single acknowledgment. They were too busy surviving to keep track of the holidays. They were meaningless now. Every day was precious and meaningful when the violent threat of extinction was a daily reality.

It was sometime in the afternoon and the winter sky had grown dark and thick with menacing storm clouds. They had been driving since before dawn after a large herd had descended upon the house they had stayed in the night before. They had almost gotten caught in the small town when two smaller herds joined together at an intersection. Carol had taken an early driving shift in the Suburban when they finally stopped at dawn, a couple hours after they escaped. Rick had been on watch for most of the night and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open and Lori was struggling with nausea and couldn't drive. Carl swapped places with Carol and joined Daryl and T-Dog in the pickup. He had been happy to spend some time with people other than his parents.

Carol felt compassion for Lori as she listened to the poor woman vomit into a series of small brown paper bags all morning.

"I thought I was past all this fun stuff," Lori lamented as she rolled down the window and tossed out her latest accomplishment.

"You poor thing," Carol sympathized. "Have you been able to keep anything down?"

"Not today." Lori took a sip of some flattened ginger ale and rested her head against the window.

The sky suddenly opened up and the rain began to pour. Carol could barely make out the taillights of the pickup traveling ahead of her. She checked the rearview mirror and noticed the headlights of the Hyundai still following behind her. Their convoy slowed considerably for several miles. Eventually, she saw the pickup turn its blinker on so she did the same. She followed it off the highway and into the parking lot of a truck stop.

She pulled up alongside the passenger side of the pickup while the Hyundai parked along the driver's side. She rolled the window down and saw Daryl sitting in the passenger seat. He lifted his chin to acknowledge her.

"This rain's a real drag. Can't see for shit. S'better to stop here an' wait it out. We can probably fill up before we leave, too. Rick awake yet?"

Carol shook her head.

"Everythin' alright?"

She nodded and smiled at him. "We're fine." It warmed her heart that he was being so considerate.

"Okay. We'll send Carl back over while me an' T go in an' check it out. Sit tight."

He rolled up the window and Carol did the same. A few seconds later the back driver's side door popped open and a slightly drenched Carl entered the vehicle waking Rick with a start.

"What's happening?" Rick panicked reaching for the gun in his holster.

"Sorry, Dad," Carl apologized sheepishly as he dripped all over his father. He closed the door quickly.

"We're at a truck stop," Lori explained as she peered into the backseat.

"Daryl and T-Dog just went in to make sure it's safe to stop for the night," Carol added.

When it was deemed safe to enter, Daryl came by and knocked on the window. They grabbed what they needed and made a dash for the entrance. Still, they all arrived inside soaking wet. It turned out to be a small diner with a gift shop attached. A few large black stains on the floor were the only evidence there had been walkers inside when T-Dog and Daryl had entered. Carol found a mop in a yellow rolling bucket standing in the corner by the restrooms and immediately set to cleaning it up. If they were going to sleep here, it was the least she could do to make it more bearable. She searched around and found some heavy duty cleaning solution and diluted it with rain water. When she went outside to fill the bucket she saw Daryl standing outside smoking a cigarette as he stood on watch guarding the entrance. The rolling bucket was awkward to maneuver and it fell over as she tried to get it over the curb. When he saw what she was doing he helped her lift the bucket over the curb after it had filled.

"Thanks," she said smiling. Her short hair was plastered to her head and small beads of water had adorned her face making her glisten in the grey light.

Daryl was momentarily captivated by the way the light danced on her face and stood frozen in place as he observed a single bead of water roll slowly down along the elegant crease of her nose and hesitate at the soft corner of her bottom lip. Warmth radiated from his chest and began spreading down his arms until his calloused fingers twitched with a sudden yearning for softness. He was just about to reach his thumb to her lip to brush the offending bead away when the muffled crash of a falling pot somewhere inside the kitchen jolted his attention away, returning him to his senses. His heart raced wildly like an animal caught in a trap. _Where's your head at?_ He realized he was blocking her way. "Sorry," he apologized, stepping to the side as he took a final drag from his cigarette and tossed the butt into the downpour. He held the door for her as she clumsily maneuvered the bucket back inside. A warm flush crept up the back of his neck when she innocently brushed against him as she pushed the wobbly bucket across the threshold. The rippling effect of the contact set his whole body on fire.

"Thank you," she said again as she smiled back at him.

He clenched his jaw to contain the onslaught of sensations awakening in his body, only managing to nod at her once before closing the door behind her. He quickly retreated to the edge of the awning, gasping for air. He cupped his hands under the stream of cascading water and splashed it on his face and neck numbing his skin. _What the hell's wrong with me?_

Inside, Carol mopped the tiled floor while Beth wiped down the tables. Glenn and Maggie were setting up the lanterns and a few candles they'd found in the gift shop along the countertop as Rick covered up the windows. Lori sat in a secluded corner, expressing her concerns about her morning sickness to Hershel who was patiently reassuring her. Suddenly, Carl stumbled out of the kitchen holding a portable CD player like a prize-winning trophy.

"Look what I found," he said excitedly as he showed the others. He turned to his father, "Can I play it?"

Rick looked at his son who was brimming with excitement and he did not want to crush the glimmer of hope he saw bursting forth on his face. "Sure, why not," he allowed. "I think we could all use something to whistle while we work."

Carl set it on one of the tables that Beth had cleaned and pressed play. The female singer was a Latin artist that none of them had heard before, but the rhythm of the music was infectious. Carl stared at the CD player as if it was a magical box and the singer herself had stepped out of it. Soon everyone was bopping around and swinging their hips as they worked to settle into their new accommodations.

After the floor was mopped, Carol went into the kitchen to figure out a meal. She gathered all the canned food and a large bag of rice. She found plenty of salt and spices and an unopened container of cooking oil. She was ecstatic when she discovered that the gas stove actually worked and figured it must be hooked up to a propane tank outside. "Finally, a working kitchen!" she exclaimed and cheers erupted from the dining area.

Carol baked some biscuits from a packaged mix. They weren't the best tasting since they lacked a few essential ingredients, but the smell of them baking had everyone drooling.

"I haven't smelled anything so good in months," Lori said cheerfully as she helped Carol serve the meal. "I have a good feeling that I will be able to keep this meal down."

Carol grinned at her. "I hope you do! We could almost get spoiled staying here."

After everyone had been served, Carol made up a plate and a cup of hot cocoa and took it outside to Daryl.

"Here you go," she said handing him the steaming plate with a proud smile. It was piled high with beans, rice, vegetables, and a couple of biscuits.

"Smells delicious," he said expressing his gratitude as he eagerly eyed the plate. His mouth was already watering in anticipation. He took off his gloves and for once, he picked up the fork and used it, a gesture that made Carol smile. He couldn't help but let out a soft groan of appreciation as the tastes from the hot food erupted and tumbled around on his palate.

"Must be fork worthy," she joked about the meal. It was subtle, but she saw a hint of delight softening the rugged features of his face. She thought it made him look handsome but she didn't comment on it.

"You didn't eat yet?" he mumbled with his mouth full. He wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't. She gave herself the smallest portion and was always the last to eat. He worried that she was too thin.

She shook her head. "I just wanted to make sure you got something hot while you were out here." She warmed her hands on the mug and listened to the cold rain pattering on the pavement. She could have set the mug down beside him and gone back inside, but the sound of the rain was soothing.

He passed her one of the biscuits without looking at her and wouldn't allow her to refuse it. "Don't make me eat alone," he grumbled into his plate. He knew she hadn't left enough for herself.

They stood side by side as they ate, staring out into enveloping darkness, while the beating of the rain lulled them into a comfortable silence. Daryl savored every bite not knowing when he'd have another meal as appetizing as this one. While it lacked meat, he thought it was the best dinner he'd had since they left the farm. It certainly had been the most filling. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a politely restrained belch. He stood there quietly for a few minutes letting the food digest, secretly enjoying her company, before he handed her the empty plate and took the mug in exchange. "Go on now," he shooed her gently. "Get somethin' for yourself before those vultures eat it all."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she saluted him and turned with a smile. "Try not to drown out here."

He rolled his eyes at her in response although he knew she was only teasing. After she went back inside, he drew the mug up to his lips and breathed in the sweet aroma of the cocoa. His eyes shut briefly as he lingered in the scent and he saw Carol's smiling blue eyes sparkling at him in the darkness. When he finally took a sugary sip, it was delicious, but he didn't need the cocoa to keep him warm.

Carol scraped the meager remains of the meal onto her plate and joined the others in the dining area. Lori lifted her mug of hot cocoa to her as she sat down next to her.

"Compliments to the chef," she toasted.

"Hear, hear," Hershel echoed the sentiment from across the table.

Soon others were calling out their compliments and expressions of gratitude. Carol smiled gracefully at the outpouring of their loving appreciation. She felt it warming her cold, aching bones. "It's amazing what a few spices can do to add flavor."

After the dishes were done, the CD player was turned on again. Glenn grabbed Maggie and started dancing with her. He wasn't a very good dancer but he tried really hard and Maggie didn't seem to mind.

T-Dog walked over to Carol and extended his hand. "C'mon, we can't let them be the only ones out there."

"I don't know," Carol hesitated. "I've got two left feet."

"You can't be any worse than Glenn," he assured her.

"Well, when you put it that way," she relented and took T-Dog's hand. Before long he had her spinning around and forgetting her flaws.

After a while Beth approached Carl who had been gleefully watching the couples dance and act silly.

"Do you want to dance?" she inquired shyly.

"I don't know how," Carl blushed.

"It's okay. I'll teach you," she replied smiling.

"Alright," he accepted. He didn't need much prompting to take her hand.

Rick watched his son's first dance lesson and laughed lightly as he saw him stumble and step on Beth's toes. Beth was gracious and good-natured about it. As Rick smiled, he looked over at Lori who smiled back at him as they shared this awkward moment in Carl's social life. For a moment, they were simply proud parents watching their son learn how to dance and flirt with an older girl. Then, something bleakly fell across Rick's face and his smile faded. He looked away, seeking comfort solely in his son's experience.

Hershel saw the exchange between Lori and Rick and the resulting heartbroken look that appeared on Lori's face as Rick distanced himself from her. He knew the couple had undergone a tremendous amount of stress and that their marriage had been troubled for a long time. Rick had confided in him about what had transpired between them and confessed that he didn't think he could find forgiveness for the wrongs he felt were done to him. Hershel, who had seen more years than the deputy, was certain that he saw the love which still existed between them. He had told Rick he was old-fashioned and was of the belief that marriage was truly for better or worse, but that it sometimes took a little more effort to get through the worst of times. In his opinion, Rick seemed to be avoiding the problem rather than trying to work through it. He counseled Rick often, but he tried not to meddle in his personal affairs. This time, however, he felt the need to step in and do something.

"Madam," he said to Lori, "would you do me the honor of having this dance with me?"

"Certainly," she replied accepting his hand with a smile.

As they danced across the diner, Lori tried not to look at Rick. "Thank you for coming to my rescue," she conveyed her gratitude to Hershel.

"He'll come around," Hershel promised. "It's obvious he still loves you. He just needs to work it out in his own time."

"That's what Carol's been telling me. And I'm trying to be patient. I am. But I'm just worried about the baby."

"That's exactly why you shouldn't stress about it. It's not good for the baby. Rick will do whatever he can to keep you, Carl, and the baby safe. You know that. I've seen it."

"You're right, you're right. I just don't know how to be patient."

"Think of it more as a practice than a state of being," he recommended lightheartedly as he twirled her around.

Rick watched Hershel spin his wife around as they danced. He felt guilty that he was still harboring a resentment against her. Hershel had spoken to him about the importance of forgiveness in the covenant of marriage, but she had done things, they had both done things that were unforgivable. Besides, it wasn't just Lori and Carl now. He was responsible for the entire group. He was their leader. He couldn't let his personal problems get in the way and cloud his judgment. People were depending on him and their lives were at stake.

He watched the group enjoying themselves and he never felt more alone. He cared about them all, but worried about getting too close to them. He needed to keep his distance so that he could lead them effectively. He couldn't let his feelings for Lori get in the way of the safety of the group. Not after what happened with Shane. Until they found a safe place, he just couldn't open that door.

He needed time to clear his head so he left the group to their festivities and went outside to relieve Daryl from watch. Night had fallen and the rainstorm continued to rage unrelentingly.

"Why don't you go on inside and get warm," Rick told him. "I'll keep watch."

"I'm good," Daryl insisted. He was reluctant to go inside. It was bitter cold, but he preferred the outdoors. It felt too small inside with so many people. He was content to know the people he cared about were safe. He thought the rainfall was soothing and it helped him to forget his worries. It provided a safe distance from the disturbing attraction he had to Carol and a refuge from the crippling fears which came along with it.

Rick simply nodded at Daryl and let it go. He was beginning to understand the man's need for solitude, so he didn't argue. The two men stood there in silent vigilance, guarding against their deepest fears, as the dark, freezing rain drowned their unbidden desires.


End file.
